


Rejected

by Kai_Embers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Creature Fic, Death Eaters, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pining Draco Malfoy, Protective Slytherins, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Soulmates, Top Harry Potter, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_Embers/pseuds/Kai_Embers
Summary: It’s a well-known fact that Veela’s die once rejected by their mate; it’s excruciating.It’s a lesser known fact that some can survive.It’s a well-known fact that Veela’s are the object of male desire.It’s a lesser known fact that some are male.It’s a well-known fact that Malfoy is pure blood.It’s a lesser known fact that pure blood perfection was once judged by the content of Veela blood.It’s a well-known fact that Malfoy and Potter hate each other.It’s a lesser known fact that Harry is Draco’s Mate; that he’d survived years of constant rejection.Hell, at this point, he kinda lives for the rejection.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, George Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 288
Kudos: 946





	1. Once

Draco’s wand chimed at 7am on the dot. He ate two slices of bread with marmalade, drank a cup of tea and marked it off in his diary. 

Draco dressed meticulously that day. Five-piece suit, silver silk tie, newly shined shoes, hair perfectly done, shiny even in the terrible lighting of his flat. His hair had grown just longer than his shoulders and tied in a low ponytail with a silver ribbon that matched his tie. It was perfect, down to his lucky, silver, serpent cufflinks with emerald eyes. 

He arrived at the Ministry early, ducking gracefully out of the floo. The room he stepped into was filled with people rushing to their work, Auror’s and paper pushes. There were only two reactions he got from people now-a-days, and he didn’t enjoy either of them, but walking through rushes like this gave too many people the opportunity to react to him.  
His allure was turned right down, he was nervous, so it was definitely there, but so low only people who stared at him anyway were affected. To be fair though, he was gorgeous, so that was still a lot of people. He tried to slip through as unnoticed as possible, his eyes trained on the marble passing beneath his feet. He was stepping smoothly out of everyone else’s path as he walked, head still up high even with eyes low. Beaten down but not broken perhaps?

Even with this extra effort it’s only a few steps before he gets an elbow in his ribs. A ‘Death Eater’ hissed at him. His shoe stomped on which put his a little off his stride, pure physical interruption there. And someone was even gross enough to spit in his hair. He shuddered, how disgusting, and they considered him low?

The other reaction however actually disturbed him more. He felt a hand brush against his thigh, a man slipped a number into his back pocket, ‘cause Merlin forbid anyone know he was interested in his kind of trash. He’d be fine for a roll around in the sheets so long as no one ever knew, what an honour. He flashed his teeth, resisting growling – or biting – at the next hand that touched him. But head low, pace wide, he kept going.

He made it through the atrium, eyes closed briefly in relief but his legs didn’t stop moving his forward, further away from the noise. He came into contact with another body, another hand lingered on his arm to balance him.

‘For Merlin’s sake-‘ he snapped, then caught himself when he looked up straight into bewildered green eyes.

Harry drew his hand back immediately as though burnt. Even that stung. 

‘Malfoy, sorry, I-‘ And a red head appeared over his shoulder. 

‘Malfoy, you allowed in here without Auror escort? No cuffs? Really?’ Weasel laughed at his own jokes, hand on Harry’s shoulder, steering him away. 

Genius, what clever insults, never heard that before… He sighed as he continued walking down the hall. His arm unwillingly reached up to the spot where Potter had touched, still tingling with the contact. His Veela screeching in his head to turn around. To get the Weasel’s hand off HIS mate. 

He ran a self-assessment:  
Was that a rejection? No, he didn’t feel the usual sting, shaken though he was, he’d be okay to continue for the day. He took strength from the simple touch from Potter and made the mistake of actually smiling when he entered the room. 

‘What are you grinning about, snake?’ Tyson strolled closer to the door, forcing Draco back a step and blocking the door to the room. ‘It’s not like they’ll actually let you in anyway.’

Behind him a girl giggled, Draco’s eyes locked onto Jess over his shoulder.

‘You do realise there’s an interview component? Three words from you and they’ll send you straight back to Azkaban.’ 

He shuddered slightly in memory of his years there, but managed to hide it well enough, he hopes.

‘Ahhh Jess. I’m so honoured that you think it will take three. I’ve grown on you, haven’t I?’ he winked at her as he slipped through into the room. Her cheeks quickly turned a deep red and she turned away, well that was her done for the day at least. 

Draco carefully avoided contact with Tyson, remembering what happened last time, Tyson seemed to remember too and gave him just enough space. That doesn’t mean everyone’s done with the ‘insult Draco’ game. Another voice called out as he sat at his seat.

‘They won’t let you use unforgivable in the practical either. You sure you’ll be okay?’ Mock concern, wow, they really must be nervous today.

He sat up straight in his chair, deciding he was done with responding. He had to focus to get ready of the test. He smoothed down the front of his suit, adjusted his cuffs and ran a hand through his hair-

Spit. Still disgusting but nothing he could do about it now. 

It was only a few more minutes of unanswered barbs before Auror Blackwell walked into the room. One glance around and everyone fell silent. Draco smiled, there were few higher ups that he respected, Blackwell was one of them. Rough but fair, and he didn’t give a shit about the tattoo on his arm.

He tried to pay attention, but he couldn’t quite stop his nerves, his leg tapping under the table impatiently as they got the usual speech. How well they’d done to get invited to sit the actual exams after training, only half of their original class was here. They were told how tough today’s exams would be, but that he had faith that everyone in the class was capable of it if they concentrated. Draco could tell that his eyes lingered on him at that comment. It was great to have at least one person in the room on his side.

Finally, they were told that it would all be worth it. Get through today and everything they’d done so far would finally be recognised. They’d be fully fledged Aurors (in training).  
‘So, turn over your papers and time starts now.’ He ended and Draco was surrounded by the noise or rustling paper. 

He slowly turned his sheet over, in his dreams it wasn’t in English, but of course it was (except the section in ancient runes), and he was still dressed in his perfect suit. He smiled up at Blackwell before dipping his quill carefully in his ink pot and started filling in the page with his perfect cursive script. 

Blaise sauntered in just after they’d begun writing, flashing him and the teacher a toothy grin.

‘Sorry.’ He murmured to Blackwell out of sheer necessity as he slipped into his seat.

He was done before anyone else in the room and then went over and over his answers. He needed this to be perfect. They’d take any excuse to not let him through. He had to be here, there was nowhere else that would take him. Nowhere else that had to let him through despite his mark. Most importantly, there was no where else where he could run into his mate so frequently. He had to follow him here, there was no way he could live without the possibility of running into him each day. 

For that he’d put himself through the training, he’d kept his body and magic in good enough condition through six years in Azkaban. Now he would get through all of this and would be a bloody amazing Auror. Because, yes, this was for his mate, but he was still a Malfoy; whatever he did he’d be sure to be at the top of. 

After the written test was done, they had a brief break. The group filtered out of the room; any conversation was taken up with discussion of the questions so at least Draco didn’t have to worry about the next verbal barrage yet. 

‘Alright, old man?’ Blaise walked up beside him, gently nudging his shoulder and passing him his morning tea scone. 

Draco scoffed, taking the required bite of the offered scone.

‘Almost thought you weren’t going to make it.’ 

‘Please, you’ve had this marked in my diary for how many years? I’ve spent long enough staying at just the right level of training for you to catch up. About time I got a promotion.’ He laughed. ‘But you, are you okay? You seem off?’

Draco shrugged, shifting away slightly from the rest of the group to the side of the room where they wouldn’t be overheard. 

‘What do you expect? I got a message last night saying that I’d be interviewed under veritaserum, and then I bumped into Potter.’ He tried to say them with equal importance but judging by the look on Blaise’s face he didn’t manage it at all.

‘Are you going to be okay with that? Will they find out?’ Blaise draped an arm around his shoulders, Draco shrugged, leaning into him to take comfort in his warmth.

‘I’ll start the damn interview by telling them. I am registered it’s just one of the few things that is actually kept in private records.’ He grumbled ‘but they’ll need to know.’

‘And if they ask about your Mate?’

‘Please, I can shake off veritserum instantly if I need to, that they don’t get.’ 

Blaise grinned at him. ‘Good man. We’ll make it through the day and drag Pansy out on the weekend to celebrate.’ He clapped him on the back before walking back to the rest of the group. A few of them seemed happy to have him join them, laughing about his entrance. Even the ones that hated him had become friends with him by now, god sometimes he hated his best friend.

It wasn’t long before, one -by-one, they were called before the board for their interviews. Draco got more and more fidgety as the day went on and his name wasn’t called. Finally, as the last in the room, his name had to be called. He was given the disgusting liquid before walking into the room and he was greeted by half disapproving and half welcoming nods from the board. He swore one of them even hissed. Among them he instantly sought out Blackwell’s face. One supportive face on the board would do just fine. 

The revelation that he was a Veela was met with confused looks and the group quickly turning away from him to discuss. It felt like at least an hour later when they finally turned back to him. The questions about his Mate came next and he hesitated just long enough for the potion to burn off.

‘I do not have one.’ His Veela bristled at the denial, a bit more uncomfortable than he’d expected, but he’d had much worse. 

‘How pure?’ Came the next voice.

‘Enough for wings.’ He answered simply, which appeared to tell them enough to move on.

‘Do you expect us to let a Death Eater into our ranks?’

He tried not to wince at the cruelty in those words.

‘Certainly not.’ He focused on the man who had said it. ‘But I’m not a Death Eater, you judged me and I served the punishment for my crimes. By your own rules you can no longer judge me by them.’ That was the official word, he knew that didn’t stand in any of their minds.

From there the questions were a lot more mundane, probably the same that they asked them all and he had perfect answers for them all. He could tell that he’d gotten them all right by the grin on Blackwell’s face. 

Next came the physical, duelling. It was basically all for show though, their marks throughout the year had been tallied to give a range of their actual abilities and, once again, Draco knew his were more that good enough to get him through. 

But it certainly didn’t hurt that this gave Draco a chance to knock Tyson a little down to size, shielding against his curses easily and knocking through his shield with about as much trouble. It’s not that Tyson was weak, just that Draco had spent long enough working out exactly how to take him down, and when he obsessed over something nothing could beat him. With the one obvious exception. Potter was always the damn exception.

He cast the last jinx with a little too much strength. Crushing Tyson against the wall before he dropped it with enough grace to look a little guilty when Blaise flashed a mildly annoyed look his way.

Draco fell into step with him as they walked through to the changing rooms. 

‘Carful Draco…’ he mumbled under his breath, and Draco shrugged.

‘It’s over now anyway, it wasn’t that bad.’ He grumbled, waiting at the side of the changing rooms while the others showered. Gay and with a snack on his arm, no, he didn’t shower with the rest of them.

Blaise was good enough to stagger his timing to distract the rest of them just enough. 

There was a crash at the other side of the room as others entered, actual Aurors he assumed. Then the rest of Draco’s group fell a little quieter as they realised who had entered.  
‘Is that Harry Potter…’ Was quickly whispered through the showers. Well shit. 

He sat on a bench, pulling out a notepad as though there was something immensely important that he had to write right now. It would be a while before he’d get to shower then wouldn’t it. 

He watched carefully over the book, it’s not like he could really not look at his Mate, who should be undressing at any moment. But he didn’t …

Something felt wrong about the way Potter was moving, about the smile slightly forced as he laughed with his friends. Draco lingered, staying out of everyone’s way the best he could. Fading into the side of the room until everyone but he and Potter had left, waved off by the Golden Boy’s carefree dismissal. 

Once they were out of the room he swayed, bumping into a locker. Without other scents clouding the room he could smell his blood, not much, but there. 

Potter clutched his side, groaning in pain as he gingerly stripped his shirt off. His wound, still unhealed from his last mission. The idiot should have taken the time to get it sorted properly. Draco stepped forward, pausing as he tried to decide between the sympathy his Veela craved to give him or to berate the Wonder Boy for not thinking. His mind was made up quickly when Potter collapsed. 

‘Shit – come on Potter … stay with me …’ He grumbled under his breath, sprinting across to his side, perhaps slightly aided by his wings, and caught him before he hit the ground.  
His Veela instincts took over completely. 

He tiled his head up to face him, had pressed against his back, holding him off the floor, his other hand twisting through his hair. He pressed his lips against Potter’s, feeling the singing of the bond through his blood, his magic channelling through that to heal his Mate. He could feel the warmth of Potter’s lips, his heart beating through them. 

He meant to keep it to a simple peck really, nothing more would be appropriate since Potter was basically unconscious. That should have done to heal enough and give him a little bit of energy, but just as he felt Potter begin to move, as he was about to draw back, Potter’s hand reach up to lock him in place.

He moaned into the kiss, a slight gasp in shock at the sudden contact and enthusiastic response. Potter used that chance to slip his tongue through his lips, deepening the kiss. He nipped at Draco’s bottom lip as he tried to draw back again and pushed himself up to control the kiss. Draco’s head slammed against the lockers behind him as he pressed the rest of his body forward to get as much contact as he could. 

Potter pushed him away suddenly, the shock and confusion in his eyes clear as he shoved him further back with his hands and his magic. In the same move he flicked to his feet, sprinting out of the room.

Draco ran a self-assessment:  
Lips were stinging, they felt almost bruised from the ferocity of the kiss.  
In his pants was a raging hard-on, he was desperate for more touch and he was sexually starved enough that the kiss would have affected him plenty, but since it was his Mate … Merlin help him.  
Was that a rejection? His wings trembled against his back, his breath trembling as his blood started to seer; like ice-water injected straight into his veins. That would be a yes then.

He sprinted from the room, not caring about how many hands brushed against him, knowing the allure was too high but he didn’t have a chance of controlling it right now.  
It wasn’t until he got to the safety of his flat that he let his wings out, tearing through the back of his favourite suit. They flung out, knocking things off the table, the mantle, and the wall as he dropped to his knees and indulged himself in a glass shattering shriek. Screaming, hissing, tearing at his wings on his back, he allowed his Veela to feel the pain. He relished in the depth of the emotions coursing through him instead of fighting them.

Hours later his body fell still, his lungs and throat aching, but he was finally silent. He raised his fingertips to his lips, feeling where Potter’s had pressed against his. He could still taste him, mixed with the taste of his blood from his screams. 

Merlin, it was twisted that this was the best day he’d had in years. 

He was still smiling softly as he stood up, meticulously cleaning up everything he’d broken by hand. His suit, the only quality item of clothing he had left, was completely destroyed, and it had definitely been worth it.


	2. Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I don't have a beta reader so any mistakes are mine, feel free to correct me on any! I'd love a beta reader though if anyone's willing to offer!

The first time Potter had rejected Draco, he didn’t think he’d survive. Potter had rejected his offer of friendship. His. The great Draco Malfoy denied in favour of a stupid Weasley. He’d thought it had been the end of the world and obsessed over it for years.

That rejection was nothing compared to the first time Potter rejected him after his Veela manifested. Fifth year he thought he had enough shit going on, but no. Due to high stress levels and life or death circumstances his Veela decided to show its head, being the stronger DNA it was his best chance at survival. But Merlin that really should have been the end of him.

The first rejection of the year, first official rejection from Harry Potter as his Mate broke him. He stopped eating, stopped showering, stopped getting out of bed really. The pain was too much. Pansy and Blaise had gotten him through it bit by bit. 

Blaise wrestled him out of bed daily, dragging him into the shower (which started plenty of rumours in the Slytherin common room). He listened to him whining about the same things over and over with endless patience while Pansy got fed up and cried over him. Day by day getting out of bed got easier though. 

Pansy ended up buying him a diary and writing in a daily star chart for the basic things. There was nothing inside Draco that felt hunger, but a missing star in the diary annoyed him, and the reminder that he had friends that cared enough to do that. He got a new one each year, the reminder to continue was still, unfortunately, necessary. 

And that was enough that he continued on. If he could survive that then he could survive the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus daily. He could survive the fear of death at every turn because, in some ways, it would have been a blessing. For his Mother (sorry, he’s meant to say parents here, right?) he could complete the mission and be a good little Death Eater in the making. 

Then there was that nasty bathroom incident. The spell he survived thanks to Snape, but when he woke up his Veela was eager to let him know that that counted as another rejection, in case he wasn’t sure, and fuck, that hurt so much worse. He thought that one rejection was all a Mate got, but apparently that was just all a Veela usually took before they rolled into their grave, there was no limit on how many times it happened, or how little it took to count as a rejection. At one-point Potter rolling his eyes and walking away was bad enough, and that’s just too damn pathetic.

It wasn’t long before he worked out his own coping mechanism. The scars on his chest marred his perfect skin, but in a way they were a mark from his Mate and that was thrilling. Yes, Potter rejected him, but in the moments leading up to that each time, he had his undivided attention. He had his fury, but that’s just another form of passion if you squint just right, and if that’s what he could get then that’s what he would take. 

It didn’t take long for that pain to mean living, and that was enough. That was before the kiss though. 

The kiss. 

That was a completely different feeling. That was what living could actually feel like and god it was amazing. Somehow, knowing that hurt more. 

\------------

7 am. Toast. Tea. Floo to work. 

Draco had hardly gotten through the atrium when Potter caught up with him. He’d have to work out this man’s schedule properly if he was going to have any semblance of sanity working here … As long as the results today were what he expected.

‘You know that I’m … ahh … with Ginny, right?’ he managed to stutter out. And god didn’t that reminder hurt? 

‘Yes Potter.’ He grumbled, continuing to walk for the hall, hoping that Potter would move on quickly. 

‘Then … ahh … why did you … ahh …’ he lent closer, he could feel his breath against his neck, shit shit shit. ‘Kiss me.’ He said the words as though it was a curse.

‘I’m sorry, you just looked so strong, and dashing, and noble, pale as death and bleeding against the floor. I was overcome.’ He rolled his eyes, Potter growled at his side. In other circumstances that would certainly be a nice noise.

‘Malfoy…’ There was a slight warning to his tone. Draco huffed and stopped, pulling him into an empty room. 

‘Yes Potter, I kissed you. And then the adrenaline coursing through your veins, brought about by your pure disgust, brought you from the brink of death. How fortunate I was there to rile that hatred.’ Dear Merlin, he was really angling for an early rejection today wasn’t he? The second Potter said it he’d need to flee, he’d be useless for the rest of work. 

He’d really have to make sure to avoid Potter through the mornings. 

‘I don’t hate you-’ he tried to cover quickly, and Merlin, that was unexpected, and kind of made the Veela sing ‘-I just. I meant I’m not … gay.’ Again, whispered like a dirty word, ‘not that there’s a problem if you are.’

Draco stared at his nails, carefully picking at side of one that had gotten slightly longer than the others. Rejection? No actually, he hadn’t said anything directly about Draco there and his Veela didn’t believe his “not gay” comment. Interesting. He smirked for a moment before controlling his response and looked back up into those deep green, uncertain eyes. 

‘Look, Harry-’ he tested out the name, rolling it around his mouth and pulling it just this side of the purr his Veela wanted. If he wasn’t mistaking, that was a slight gasp from the dark-haired man before him, his heart sped up just the slightest, Draco’s Veela could hear every beat. That tinge of rouge on his cheeks and ears didn’t look too bad either. Very interesting.

‘-you collapsed. I thought I’d get in trouble, if not blamed, if you died with me in the room. So, I checked, it didn’t seem like you were breathing, there’s this fabulous thing we’re taught in training called CPR, if you can remember that far back?’

Harry growled ‘I know CPR Malfoy, if that’s how you think it’s done then you’re not getting through those exams.’ 

This felt familiar, he’d missed this so much.

‘No, what I did was CPR, what you did was shove your tongue down my throat and then bolt, ta ever so.’ He grinned at the absolute drop of Potter’s face.

‘Sorry, I didn’t know- I didn’t mean to- shit.’ 

‘Now, if you don’t mind, Potter, I have somewhere else to be.’ He walked out of the room, his Veela purring at the contact with his Mate without it ending in pain. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Potter seemed just a little disappointed not to hear his version of “Harry”, and that gave him just a little bit of hope.

He fought against every cell in his body, resisting looking back. He wasn’t far down the hall before he heard Weasley’s voice chiming behind him. That meant Harry hadn’t moved. His wings prickled, desperate to spread with pride, to be visible to his Mate. 

Not. A. Chance.

Draco ran a self-assessment:  
Heart hammering at about double rate.  
He could still feel the tingle on his neck where he’d felt Harry’s breath.  
No pain. Good.

He had to focus on the results. He’d been fixated on this for years; without it he didn’t have a chance of seeing Potter again. Though, if he was being honest, a little of his excitement might have been for him. 

When he reached the room they’d be told to wait at Draco joined the nervously silent group who he’d been studying with for the last year, for once they were all too nervous to greet him with their usual ‘civility’. He glanced around but, shocker, Blaise hadn’t arrived yet. He shifted from foot to foot, checking his watch, subtly checking his mobile to confirm they both said the same time, and then repeated that process over and over and over until Auror Blackwell finally turned up. 

‘Right, let’s not waste time. I’m going to call out names, once you’re called, you’ve passed. Please make your way into the room and I’ll hand out placements. If I don’t call your name, please take a week or so to think about it and then let me know if you’ll be continuing training or if you’d like to drop out. I won’t blame your choice.’ 

He paused to look around at them all, Draco could swear that his eyes lingered on some students, the ones he assumed wouldn’t be called into the room. Thankfully his eyes passed right over him and he began calling out names. Draco basically didn’t hear a word until his name was called, he couldn’t hide the smug grin that spread across his face as he brushed past the rest of the group, heading into the room. 

He ignored the groans of disappointment and the snark that greeted him the second he walked into the room. Taking a seat at the back he still couldn’t let his smile drop, he knew that he could do it, but he didn’t know they’d let him. He was actually an Auror! 

Auror Blackwell walked in moment later, closing the door to the groans and cries outside. He couldn’t bring himself to feel any sympathy for them, it’s not like they would have offered him the same if it was the reverse. Only … Blaise still wasn’t-

Blaise sauntered into the room.

‘I’m good, right, sir?’ he flashed a toothy, lopsided grin at Blackwell, not even waiting for a response he came and sat beside Draco who rolled his eyes and gave him a good natured elbow in the ribs. Blackwell didn’t even bother with a response.

‘So, placement.’ He huffed, looking down at the piece of paper scrunched in his hand, he got about four names through when there was a knock at the door.

‘What now?!’ he shouted, his growl didn’t soften when Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley walked into the room. 

Potter leaned across, whispering in Blackwell’s ear. Draco’s Veela riled. He could feel his teeth sharpening as he watched the exchange. Now that was just ridiculous. It was probably just because he hadn’t seem him in so many years, he’d been a lot better back at Hogwarts. Just needed a while to readjust and not use his wings to lung at him, teeth to mark him and claws to tear his clothes off (or the arm of anyone who touched him, watching you Ronald). 

He felt Blaise’s hand settle gently on his arm. Even his best friend knew to be cautious when he was this wound up, but it was exactly what he needed to take his next breath. He rolled his shoulders back and was relatively contained by the time Blackwell turned to the group.

‘Scrap everything I just said then. We have a new case in and a few of you rookies are going to get the honour of working on it.’ He glanced around the room, picking out who to call. Everyone in the room sat up straighter. 

This would be a proper case straight out of the gate, the perfect chance to make a name for yourself. Not to mention the honour of working with two thirds of the Golden Trio. And don’t think for a second Draco didn’t notice the shoulders back and boobs out from the girls in the room. How would Granger and Weaselette feel about how the two boys’ eyes lingered over them. Shallow idiots.

Are those really the two main assets that they’re looking for in their new team? A team so important they get to interrupt current assignments? But great, as long as there’s something nice to look at there he was sure it would help the team as a whole. Not a distraction at all. Draco knew that Pansy would kill him if she knew how harshly he was judging them, but there was no part of him that cared enough to stop right now.

At least that explained why the hell Potter didn’t seem to be able to manage the simple task of taking a statement without coming back with some broken bones. 

Blaise’s elbow found his ribs.

‘Draco Malfoy!’ growled Blackwell, obviously not for the first time. 

Draco jumped to his feet, rubbing his ribs gingerly.

‘Sorry, sir. Yes sir?’

He focused on Blackwell’s frustration and the roll of his eyes rather than the sniggering Gryffindor’s beside him. ‘I was just calling you for the new assignment if you have the time to indulge me?’

Draco felt the slight blush on his cheeks, but that was still nothing compared to the proud smile spreading across his face. Before he even got to the thrill he might get to actually work with his Mate, every bloody day, there was still the fact that Blackwell would be willing to give him this. That meant-

‘Ahhh Auror Blackwell, are you sure about that … ?’ Potter’s voice cut off any response Draco was golng to give. Oh Shit.

‘I’m not sure that Malfoy is the best choice for our team. Perhaps-’ 

‘Auror Potter, all due respect. You don’t know my boys and you sure as hell weren’t just sent in here with permission to pick your own team.’ Potter had the grace to look more than a little scolded. ‘You’ll be taking Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Tyson Steer. They’ll be excellent additions to your team.’

‘I really think we should discuss this-‘ Potter tried again, a little weaker, but still protesting. He even shot a look at Draco, as though he was expecting support from him. 

His grey eyes stared down the green. “Don’t you fucking dare take this away from me” Draco basically screamed in his mind, hoping the outrage would get through that thick skull just enough that he’d shut up. 

Though also, quick self-assessment:  
Yeah, he bloody knew it.

Blaise’s hand clamped down on his wrist, and he focused on that, his breathing getting shallower and shallower as the pain built. But he couldn’t let it take him over yet, if it did then he’d be useless. He didn’t let it kill him and he wouldn’t let it stop him now, it didn’t lesson it, but it felt like it was willing to sit in the back as a burning pain to get him properly later. 

When he looked up Potter was looking at him, waiting as Weasley and Blackwell talked, to catch his eye. He tilted his head to the door and walked out. Blaise sighed at his side.

‘I think you’ve been summoned.’ Draco nodded, straightening up neatly and smoothing down his shirt.

He walked out after Potter, ignoring the looks and comments from the rest of the group. He walked out and spotted Potter waiting just a little further down the hall, probably just far enough so that no one in the room would be able to hear them. He fixed a steely glare as he walked across, leaning against the wall. He refused to look at the prat, that was the only way he’d be able to make it through the conversation when he was this close to him, basically alone.

‘What now Potter?’ 

‘About the group. If Blackwell has put your name down for it then I can’t override him, but-‘

No, no, no, no. no. Don’t you dare bloody say it Potter. Though part of his mind wondered if it would hurt more. If it even could hurt more. Or did it not matter now. Enough pain to cause death would probably be enough, besides, it almost felt like the same rejection if it was still denying him from his team, right?

‘I just, don’t think we should work together. I mean, no offence Malfoy, but you have to admit, we just shouldn’t be on the same team.’ 

There it was, no self-assessment needed. He needed to get out of here now! 

‘Go fuck yourself Potter. You might think you’re the God of the Universe, but you’re not the Head Auror yet. You don’t get to fuck up my career on a whim because I don’t fit into your perfect Gryffindor world.’ He growled, slamming his shoulder into Potter as he walked past headed straight for the door.

He barely made it through the floo, his legs gave way and he crashed onto the floor. Already screaming the second the floo dust had left his hand. 

He could feel each of his muscles tearing themselves apart. He kept gasping for air, he could hear the desperate rasp with each inhale but he couldn’t breathe. His skin stung, he couldn’t tell if it was hot or cold but it burnt and his talons moved to try to rip it off. 

Strong fingers curled around his wrist, gently prying them away. He twisted through the pain to look up at the dark skin a clear blue eyes. Blaise didn’t speak, he just sat beside him, pulling his hands away to gently avoid the worst of the pain.

‘Congrats on the mission, I thought we should celebrate.’ He muttered to himself, watching his best friend writhe on the ground, screaming in pain. The pained shriek of the Veela almost had his ears bleeding, but he sat through it. Waiting for it to pass as he knew it would.


	3. Publicly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were some Blaise comments so I’m giving him a little more airtime in this chapter. Let me know if I can get away with some more! 😊

Everyone has moments – well he’s not sure that everyone does, but at least he does – moments through their lives that they keep thinking back on, and wonder if they got that moment wrong. How their life would be different if they’d done something a little different. How much better if could be if they’d done something right. 

It wasn’t like he had a list or anything, they just came up sometimes. Given his past he knew there were plenty of giant moments that he should think of. Insulting Weasley his first meeting with Potter, he could have shaken Harry’s hand that second, gone through Hogwarts not hating each other, maybe then he’d have a chance with Harry. Taunting ‘mudbloods’ through his second year, Granger annoyed the hell out of him, but that was mostly from just what he got on the outskirts of her conversation. If he hadn’t been so stuck to his prejudices, they could have been friends, studied together, taunted each other to try harder in class, and then become friends and he’d have a chance with Harry. Dressed up as a dementor/accidently got Buckbeak up for execution, comforted Harry instead and maybe had a chance with him. Made the ‘Potter Stinks’ badges (okay, not really, he was bloody proud of that one) but he could have helped Harry through the challenges as well, yada yada yada, had a chance with Harry. Not taking the mark, not letting the Death Eaters into the school, taking Dumbledore’s offer of help. Running away from his family, at any point in his life really. 

Okay, he had a list of regrets. But they weren’t the ones he actually thought of. The ones that caught him in moments of silence were a lot more minor. Second year he had a moment, practicing on his broom, trying to get better, faster, to be a better seeker than Potter. He’d seen the messy hair a mile away and came lower. He saw the green eyes and a broom in his hand and there was a moment their eyes locked. He thought about it all the time, as simple tilt of his chin and Harry would have joined him in the air, he knew it. When they flew together they had some kind of connection. If they had flown together that day, he could imagine the way Potter’s eyes would have lit, how he would have smiled and how it would have been a moment just between the two of them that he would treasure. He wasn’t sure what could have changed from that moment, possibly nothing, possibly everything. But he hadn’t. He’d landed with a huff, storming off the field as though Harry had wrecked his whole flight. He’d seen Harry’s shoulders drop, but it hadn’t stopped him being a prat back then. 

\------------ 

Draco was already staring at his alarm when it went off at 7, he switched it off before it got a trill through the sound. It was the weekend. That meant he wouldn’t get to even see Potter. Was there even a point in getting up … 

He rolled over with a groan, ‘come on Malfoy, you’re better than this. Pathetic fuck.’ He rolled out of bed, knowing that either Blaise or Pansy would have arranged to tag team watching him this weekend anyway after the week they’d had. He got up, showered, toast and tea, marking them all in his diary diligently then sat at his dining room table, a pile of mail stacked up in front of him. This was one thing his friends couldn’t talk him out of, even though they didn’t understand. 

He carefully opened the first letter after casting a few spells to check for any danger. 

Go kill yourself!!! Or I will!!! 

How original, he burnt it with a flick of his wand and picked up the next one. 

How dare you! You have no right to live, let alone pretend to be a member of the Aurors. We all know you’re just Death Eater Scum! You killed my daughter and every breath you’ve drawn since then is an insult to her name. 

That deserved a response. He pulled out a quill and parchment and carefully began the letter. 

I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear about your loss and I can never describe how much pain it causes me to know that anything I’ve done resulted in death. 

Please write back to me, tell me about her, tell me how she died. I’m happy to take the blame. 

If I could trade my life for hers I would, but unfortunately that’s in the past. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you through this. 

My sincere apologies and sympathies, 

Draco Malfoy. 

He put that into another pile to take into town then moved to the next letter. 

Traitorous cocksucker! The Dark Lord should never have trusted your disgusting tainted blood! You’re lower than the disgusting mudbloods- 

Burn. 

His wings were hanging limp behind him after hours of sorting through the letters. He had a pile about one fifth the original size with response letters, the rest were all destroyed. It was just in time for his to be disturbed by a knock at the door. He opened it to let Pansy in who was already sniffing at the smell of ash. 

‘At it again? Why do you keep torturing yourself with this?’ she groaned, walking through into his kitchen. 

‘Some of them appreciate it.’ He grumbled, following after her. He watched as the opened his fridge and his cupboards as thought she was looking for something and not subtly checking on his supplies and making sure that he was still eating okay. He sighed but let her do the customary check. Blaise must have told her about the other night. He hated it when his friends saw him like that, but half the time Blaise was there anyway and he couldn’t really bring himself to hold it against him. 

‘Blaise is meeting us in town for lunch. We’re running late.’ 

‘How the hell are we running late? You literally only just told me.’ He groaned. He’d like to say this was unusual but Pansy always did this to him, and Blaise was always pissed at them both for it. For always being late for professional things he took it oddly personal when people were late to meet him for anything social. 

Draco rushed Pansy out of the house quickly after that, taking the letters with him. When they got to where Blaise was waiting the man stood with a smile and hugged both of his friends in greeting, but his lips were pulled just a millimetre higher than his genuine smile and that extra stress showed his annoyance. 

‘Sorry.’ Draco mumbled in the hug, he never bothered with excuses anymore. 

Blaise shrugged carelessly ‘No problem at all, I just got here myself.’ 

His coffee was already finished and he’d acquired a bit of a simpering fan club at a few tables around the place so Draco knew that wasn’t true. He fell into the seat beside Blaise’s and stole the last sip of his coffee. 

‘So, are we eating here, or moving on to somewhere less crowded?’ He looked purposefully away from the groups that were already staring. Blaise shrugged. 

‘Let’s move on. I’m assuming you have post to get off first?’ 

‘As always …' Pansy groaned, but both boys ignored her and headed off down the street after Blaise dropped some money on the table. 

Malfoy had been out of Azkaban for a year, he’d been giving out apologies privately, publicly and in response to every letter he got ever since the war. He was even an Auror, sure that part was only since yesterday, but still see how well he was acclimating back into normal society? Unfortunately, the rest of the public in general didn’t seem to be on the same page as him. Draco was too tall to blend in really, along with his Veela and Malfoy DNA he stood out wherever he was, which very quickly connected him with who he was and then he could feel everyone’s hatred or lust, wherever he went. 

When he was with Pansy and Blaise it was a little different. Anyone who he wasn’t quite right for – too lean, too blonde, too pale – Blaise was perfect for, and since he didn’t have a disgusting tattoo on his arm, people were a lot more willing to drool over him. Draco was fairly certain he would have been told if he had any Veela blood, but with his looks there was definitely something other than just wizard at play. Then, of course, anyone who was too straight to be interested in either of them, Pansy had them covered. Her nose was still a little squished but she had kind of grown into it, her hair was cut straight across her sholders which highlighted her bone structure well and the fronts were slightly longer, which then led the attention down to her ample chest which was always just on the line of classy/prostitution levels of on display. 

Suffice to say, as they walked through Diagon Alley, they got attention. Which before too long always turned negative if they lingered in one place too long, so they kept moving. They posted letters, stopped briefly in at a café to grab lunch, which Draco shouted to make it up a little to Blaise that they had been late. Then kept wandering on. It had been an unspoken rule that Draco didn’t wander in public alone since his release, he wasn’t willing to admit it, but with the attention he got it wasn’t safe for him to even try it. He liked that it had turned into a regular thing anyway. Anything that got him out of the house and stops him thinking of Potter for a few hours, is very appreciated. His friends already did more than enough for him so he didn’t really think he could ask for more, but he did miss the nights in the Slytherin common room when he knew they were all there together. 

They kept wandering in and out of shops for a while, crossing random tasks off all of their lists until Draco hesitated in front of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, raising his hand to bite at his thumbnail which Blaise quickly slapped away. 

‘Terrible habit.’ he scolded ‘want to go in?’ 

‘I shouldn’t,’ Draco shook his head, the Weasel was easy enough because the hatred was usually enough to cover it, not to mention he was too close to Potter to really close out of his life. The Weasley’s as a family however … He owed them more apologies then he ever thought he could give. ‘It’s just … it’s Edward’s birthday coming up and he did actually have a request.’ 

Pansy grinned, looping an arm through his and dragged him into the shop. ‘Well, we all know whatever dear Teddy asks for, his doting cousin will provide.’ 

Draco smiled at the thought ‘please, his name is Edward, use it.’ He allowed himself to be dragged into the shop, Blaise strolling in behind them. Draco’s shoulders relaxed when he saw that it wasn’t a Weasley behind the counter and he began browsing the shelves. 

They wandered through the shop for a bit, Draco searching for a certain toy, Pansy distracted by the corner of love items and Blaise admiring the range. It had clearly kept developing over the years, the fireworks had always been a favourite of his, but there were a lot of new products that he thought he could make plenty of use of now. There were a few Auror’s he couldn’t mind passing on some little gifts to and with how perfect his poker face was he was fairly certain he could get away with it. 

Unfortunately, Pansy was too distracted reading the fine print on a particular love charm to try to work out how effective it would be and Blaise was trying to work out who exactly deserved the ‘Appendages Slug Away’ gum so neither of them noticed when the remaining Weasley twin came out from the back room and spotted Draco. His wand was out and a spell was cast before any of them knew he was there. Draco didn’t hear what it was, but he felt it crack across his face and fell to the ground, the taste of blood in the back of his throat. He blinked back in the direction the spell had come from, faintly making out his silhouette and definitely spotting the fire hair. 

‘Weasley?’ He croaked, once the initial pain passed, he took more stock of what felt damaged, his nose was broken at least, he could feel the gushing down his face and raise the sleeve of his rode to try to stop it. 

Pansy and Blaise moved between the two of them as the red-head raised his wand again. This wasn’t the cheery twin Blaise remembered from around the halls of Hogwarts. He’d heard things of course, but he’d never quite been able to image the doom and gloom aura of it all. 

‘What do you think you’re doing George? Attacking a customer?’ Blaise managed to keep his voice calm, staring him down as Draco clambered to his feet. He tugged at Blaise’s arm. 

‘Put the wands away, it’s fine.’ He managed, his voice sounding slightly nasal with the injury, he turned slightly towards George, not stupid enough to actually leave a direct path between them though. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here.’ 

‘No, you fucking shouldn’t you slimy snake. In fact, you should still be rotting in your cell in Azkaban.’ He spat. 

Draco nodded slightly, the best he could without getting blood on the carpet and left the shop quickly. He wasn’t that weak, he wouldn’t take that kind of shit from most people, but it had been a trying week and if he deserved it from anyone, it was from the Weasley’s. Blaise cast a subtle check and heal on Draco before he got out on the street, he needed to know exactly how much pain he owed this man. It was just a broken nose, healed easily, so maybe just let Pansy have at it a little. 

Pansy stepped forward ‘how dare you?!’ she began in her best indignant screech. 

Blaise stepped to her side, about to back her up, then took a moment. His eyes scanned over George and took in the white knuckles, the trembling shoulders, the heaving chest. He knew that look of pain and outrage. 

‘Out Pans.’ He muttered, putting a calm hand on her shoulder. She stared for a moment, about to argue but he cut her off ‘Draco will need you.’ She shook her head and stormed out, throwing another glare over her shoulder, and Merlin, her eyes were piercing. 

He walked up to the counter, calmly picking up a soft toy, focusing on it instead of the man before him, only sparing a brief thought to what the toy might be spelled to do. ‘You’re not coping too well are you?’ 

George glared at the man in front of him, seething in hatred even while his eyes scanned over the long legs, built chest barely hidden under his fitted grey shirt, broad shoulders, dark hair and gorgeous glittering eyes that flicked up, locking on his when he reached them. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly at the obvious appraisal. 

‘Well?’ he asked calmly, his voice taking on a slightly deeper purr than the first question. Was he repeating it or asking what he thought of- well him? 

‘Good-’ he choked a bit on the response and cleared his throat. ‘I’m doing good, I mean.’ 

‘Sure.’ He smiled. Okay, did he mean “sure” like, sure that’s what he meant, or like is he sure that he’s okay? 

Apparently, he had been staring without answer for a little too long. Blaise unfolded his legs gracefully, pulling more attention to their length, and jumped off the counter. Tossing the toy he was playing with back to George who fumbled slightly to catch it. Still just staring as he walked out of the room, definitely not particularly focused on his ass. What the hell was that look? What the hell was that conversation? Bloody Slytherins were NOT welcome in his store. Though now he was a little confused on exactly why. 

Blaise walked out of the shop, smiling slightly at the confused look on the red-haired boys face. That had been unexpectedly fun for something that started with genuine concern. Not that he’d actually gotten anywhere but one depressed friend was probably enough for him anyway. His smile dropped quickly when he spotted his two friends on the street. 

Both Pansy and Draco had their wands out and they had a crowd around them with plenty of people in the same fighting stance, wands drawn. The blood on Draco’s face was like a drop of blood in the water of sharks at feeding time, it was permission and a bullseye all in one. If Weasley had hurt him then anyone was allowed to. Damn. 

Draco growled, not only protecting Pansy and himself from any jinxes thrown but also making a conscious effort to get to all the spells before Pansy did, making sure he could just block and defuse safely, not go back on the attack like she seems to keen to do. Blaise frowned, this wasn’t the way wizards should behave in public, and it was hardly fitting for new Aurors to be caught in such a thing, but he could hardly think of another option. He flicked his wand to his hand in time to block another jinx headed at his friends. If he couldn’t defuse the situation then they just had to get out of here quick. Or- Shit. 

He spotted the one man that could probably wave off the whole thing, the stupid messy hair and glasses. As Potter pushed his way through the crowd of people with his ever loyal Weasley at his side, Blaise tried to work out whether this was a good or bad thing. Apparently just his appearance was enough and wands very quickly seemed to disappear until it was only the three Slytherins, in various levels of disarray, holding out their wands and panting. Not a good look. 

Potter turned his green glare on each of them until finally their wands were lowered as well. 

‘What the hell do you think you were doing?’ He was focusing mainly on Draco, the disappointment and disgust clear in his eyes. ‘You’re a damn Auror now Malfoy, you can’t do shit like this. You too Blaise.’ he added as an afterthought, smoothly enough that Blaise shrugged it off. 

Draco bristled, tucking away his wand, no, he’d cowered and apologised enough today. ‘I’m sorry Potter, I wasn’t aware that being an Auror meant I no longer had the right to defend myself. Perhaps we should make it easier for them, go straight to locking me in the stocks on the weekend so they can have a better target for it?’ 

Potter growled, glancing around and trying to take in more of the situation, but most people had moved on now. There was blood on Draco’s face but no actual sign if injury, Draco knew he wasn’t coming off well here when Potter’s eyes were even harder when they focused back on him. 

‘That’s not what I mean Malfoy, but if you can’t go outside without causing this kind of mess then maybe just spare us all the pain and don’t leave your damn house.’ 

Self-assessment: 

His wings wanted out, for safety, protection and just plain showing off. 

Breath steady, that wasn’t- 

‘Why do you get into trouble wherever you go? Always with excuses. At some point you have to admit that you’re the bloody issue. Just stay out of my way at least? I don’t want to deal with this.’ He grumbled, running a hand through his already tussled hair. 

Not again! He’d wanted to see Potter, hell, he’d even wanted the pain, but was this really how he was going to end every day now? 

Blaise quickly pulled him against him, flashing a glare at Potter over his trembling friend’s shoulder as he apparated them straight to Draco’s house. As he let Draco drop to the floor he heard the crack of Pansy following behind them. 

They both watched in the usual combination of amazement and concern as Draco’s wings came into full view as he began to scream. Draco reached back as soon as they were there, ripping at them in frustration. His claws came back with feathers and blood clasped in them and he rolled onto his back with a screech, arching painfully off the floor and crushing his wings beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of Draco/Harry actual development coming in the next chapter I promise! Stay with me here!


	4. Used First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Okay, this isn’t fair. I’m coming off really badly here …  
> Draco: Oh, come on, our whole Hogwarts life was ‘The Potter Show’, it’s my turn.  
> Harry: And yet, your story still seems to revolve around me, how sweet.  
> Draco: Oh, sod off, Potter *storms out*.  
> Harry: Right, so, in my defence ...

The fiendfyre licked at his heels as he curled further over the broom. The heat in the room was thick, it made him fly slower, think slower, see slower. He could see Ron flying ahead and all he could think was they had to get out, they had to escape. Even as far above the flames as they were, the heat hurt. Then he saw them. Malfoy and Goyle, they scrambled higher, trying to get further away from the flames, as close as they were, he couldn’t imagine how much that hurt. 

There was a calm part of his mind, quietly, just for a moment, that whispered thoughts he refused to admit he’d ever heard. Things like how they deserved it, that he and Ron should just get out, that plenty of people were dying in the battle outside and there was no reason they shouldn’t be casualties. That he was the damn Chosen One, and for this battle to end he had to survive so why the hell was every other part of his mind screaming at him to risk his life for the chance to save Malfoy? 

Then, for a moment, through the waves of the heat of the fire, he thought he saw something. Goyle slipped, Malfoy fell back down, risking himself to pull Goyle higher. Then there were wings. Beautiful, giant, white, feathery wings that reached another half arm length beyond the blonde’s spread out arm. The second they appeared they began to whither; the edges began to burn. He could hear Malfoy's screams as they curled against the heat, beating the best they could to lift him and Goyle up higher, just beyond the grasp of the flames so they could keep scurrying up the pile. Then they disappeared. 

His body reacted before he could fully comprehend it and near him, he knew Ron was doing the same, possibly with a scream at how stupid he was. When Ron reached them Malfoy had slipped behind, desperately pushing Goyle up into Ron’s grasp which left him there when Harry reached the pile. The last of the junk he was standing on collapsing into the fire beneath him, his arm stretched up and his silver eyes locked on Harry. He could see the tear tracks down his cheeks, the pain and fear in his eyes, but somehow there was also absolute faith that Harry would reach him in time even if it seemed like it was already too late. In that second, Harry couldn’t let him down. 

He stretched out so far off the broom that he was amazed he didn’t fall off. Malfoy's long fingers closed around his arm like a death grip, though he was sure his weren’t any gentler against the pale arm he was clutching. He tossed the light body behind him, knowing the arms would catch, and felt the trembling frame of the boy press against every inch of his back, clinging around his middle. 

Harry hadn’t been sure if he was actually going to make it out in the first place, but with Malfoy pressed behind him there was no question. He just had to. He could feel every point of contact between them hotter than the fiendfyre below. He could feel Malfoy’s magic and strength pouring through him, his body leaning and angling in perfect time with his own. It felt, right. Somehow in the whole war this – about to die on a damaged broom being clutched to by his enemy – was the safest and surest he felt. 

Then there was a burst of flames. Malfoy's hand slipped as the broom tilted. He watched as the blonde fell screaming into the fire below. He got one last glimpse of the wings, desperately beating with burnt feathers, holding Malfoy just above the flames so that Harry could see him as he burnt. 

\------------ 

Harry woke up drenched in cold sweat, his blankets tangled around him, refusing to let him go as he struggled out of bed. He tried to calm his breathing once he was free of the sheets. Counting to five as he breathed out but his body gasped for air, refusing to let him slow his breathing in. How did he usually do this? How did people breath in slowly? He just felt like he was choking himself. 

It took forever for his heart to calm down and his breathing to steady. It always did after that dream. He thought he had enough memories of those close to him dying, he’d never understood why his mind felt like it had to create new terrors when there were so many real ones to pick from. Not to mention the people he’d actually seen die were closer to him, but watching Draco die left him cold. Maybe it was just the way he died. Maybe it was just that he didn’t, it invoked the feeling of more loss than he knew was right? Maybe it was just those wings? Which he didn’t know why or when he had added them to the memory but it seemed like he’d dreamt it so many times it was reality now. 

He stared in the mirror, trying to imagine his face as gaunt as Malfoy’s had been in that moment. He couldn’t imagine what that year had been like for him. He never really had the chance, relationship with him, or honestly the guts to ask him about it. It was easier to blame, to hate. The other option was accepting he might have been wrong, that he was to blame for Malfoy’s suffering, and there was enough blame on his shoulders already. He’d saved him in the fire (regardless of what the dream said) and he’d protected Malfoy and his mother when the trials came the best he could. 

Malfoy had ended up sent to Azkaban for a few years, but even throwing his name around couldn’t get a marked Death Eater off. He’d felt terrible about that. Like he’d failed him again. Then the idiot had the nerve to send him a thank you letter. Thanks for what? Letting him rot away? It didn’t really matter, there was nothing between them now, it just felt empty and rotten to think about. Especially after that dream … At least Ginny wasn’t here, she hated when he got like this in the mornings, when there was nothing for her to do to help. 

He was interrupted by the high pitch call of the emergency floo. It wasn’t going to be a good day. 

‘What?’ 

‘Need you in. Now Potter.’ Came the brief response. Yeah, that sounded about right. He pulled clothes on, mind slipping back to yesterday. Malfoy, the fury in his eyes and blood across his chin, shit that had scared him. No, scared was the wrong word, he didn’t care if Malfoy got injured it was just annoying to keep walking into those situations too late to do anything. Malfoy had to take more care of himself. 

What if today was something about him too? He was so good at getting himself into trouble, it was only a matter of time before one of the calls was about Malfoy. He sped up slightly, stepping into the floo as he did up his shirt and stepped straight into the main hall, just down from the Head Auror’s office. Again, only available from certain floo connections in an emergency. He walked straight in, sparing a quick grin at Ron who was already sitting in there, waiting. Straight to it then. 

‘What’s happened to him?’ He asked as he sat. Both of them turned to him, confused. 

Ron got to the response first ‘Who?’ 

Oh shit, of course, there wasn’t actually any confirmation, he’d just … well, assumed, for absolutely no reason. 

‘Whoever, whatever.’ he waved it off. ‘What’s happened?’ 

That seemed to be enough and they moved forward with the briefing. Potion smuggling, no one was on it because they hadn’t had any clue but they just got word that there was a big one coming in today. Which meant the two best Auror’s were on it. Hermione was pregnant enough that she got pissed every time Ron was called in on for overtime or on the weekend. For things like this they didn’t have any other options. 

They apparated through to a warehouse near the docks, meeting up with a small team there. Harry immediately took charge. He split the group of nine into three groups of three, giving each of them their positions of entry. He and Ron would take the spot that would be the most likely escape route. He looked around at all of their nodded, concentrated faces and felt confident, despite the pit he still hadn’t shaken from his stomach from how he woke up. 

They all crept into their spots, Harry waited until his wand buzzed with each of the groups patterns to let him know everyone was in position and ready. He could hear people fussing around inside the warehouse, it sounded like there were more than they’d expected. But from the brief they’d had about the kinds of potions they were bringing in, they had to push forward, he just had to hope they had enough power to control the situation. In times like this he wishes he was part of a full squad, had a group of Aurors that he trusted and knew their strengths rather than just whoever was on call. But the few times he’d tried whoever was put in the group with he and Ron just ended up getting in the way, or worse, got them all injured when they were too star struck to actually work. Having random Aurors with them just meant they were risking it each time anyway, but now wasn’t the time to sulk over that. 

He twisted his wand, giving them all the signal to move. And the silence exploded. As they ran into the warehouse he took a quick count of the enemies. Yup, they were outnumbered, and there were boxes and shelves of potions everywhere, not exactly the ideal fighting location. Harry watched as everyone entered and started throwing out jinxes and protection across everyone he could reach. The adrenaline pumping through his veins felt right, felt familiar and he let himself get lost in it. He weaved away from attacks watching as the men they were attacking dropped one by one, hoping that not as many Aurors were dropping, though as long as it wasn’t Ron, it didn’t matter right now. 

One left. One spell. Ron was distracted over someone else who’d fallen, he looked up and eyes widened, but there was no way he could move in time. He didn’t think twice before throwing himself in the way. He bumped a shelf and heard glass shatter and his cloak burnt, but he couldn’t feel any of it. The jinx hit, and he didn’t feel it. The man who had thrown it fell to one of Ron’s spells over the top of him. It still didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t move. Each heart beat slowed down bit by bit, the adrenaline ebbed and then the pain grew. 

Ron got to him the second all of the suspects were apprehended and called straight though to St Mungo’s. ‘Idiot. You know I can take some of the hits …' he grumbled, it was kind of an ongoing thing, Harry playing human shield for him whenever they were in the field. Hermione would kill him if he let Ron get hurt though. The pain grew and his vision faded, but Ron had him, he knew it was safe. 

When Harry woke up, he was greeted with the familiar fluorescent lights of St Mungo’s and everything ached. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the side of the room, murmuring with the doctor, they all looked so serious. That meant it was bad, hey? He groaned, struggling to sit up slightly just to have all three of them instantly at his bedside. 

‘Harry, you can’t move. You have to rest.’ Hermione jumped straight in with her scolding. 

Ron put his hand gently on her shoulder, giving her the usual gently look to calm down, he’d been doing that a lot since she got knocked up. Then he looked at Harry, with the concerned, guilty, scolding look he’d been perfecting over the last year. 

‘I called Ginny, she’s going to try to make it back tomorrow. You can get checked out of the hospital when she’s here to take you home. You can’t be unsupervised.’ 

Hermione frowned ‘Of course you can come home with us, but with the nursery setup we only have the couch, and I don’t think that’s good in your situation.’ 

Great, dragging Ginny back into the country, interrupting her training just to remind her why she hated his job would make a fantastic first meeting in almost a month. Harry looked at the doctor who kindly repeated the list of his injuries. It seemed like every one she added he could feel the pain in that part of his body, maybe it had been better not knowing. But she wasn’t done. 

‘You’ll have to be supervised for a week, on the potions for at least two weeks, we’ll monitor your magic rejuvenation and your skin growing back-’ ahh that would be what the potion did, ‘and three weeks before we’ll clear you back for work, depending on how you are going through your check-ups.’ He dropped back on the bed, eyes closed. 

Ginny had to be home for at least a week, she’ll be pissed and worried and around (which of course he was happy about). He didn’t even think it hurt as bad as some of the other hits he’d taken, but his idea of pain was a bit skewed at this point. He refused to open his eyes as Hermione and Ron both asked if there was anything he needed and swore they’d be back the next day. The Doctor gave some more instructions that he nodded slightly in response to, but really, he was just waiting for them to leave. 

Then there was beautiful silence – for possibly a whole minute. Then someone opened the door and started clattering about with trays and cups and Merlin. He just wanted a second of silence and the metal grating against metal and the screech of the rubber wheel of the trolly, and he’d been awake for long enough that his head was starting to pound again and- 

‘Would you just shut the fuck up?!’ He bellowed before thinking for a second. 

There was absolute silence, but it didn’t feel good. He sighed, cursing himself and steeled himself ready to apologise to the poor unfortunate soul who was here to feed him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking into distraught silver pools. 

‘Malfoy …' of course, who else does he lash out at? His mind swam through his most recent interactions, the dream, yelling at him in public, having him assigned to his team, and, of course, the kiss. The kiss he still doesn’t understand and can’t bring himself to think about. At least not usually, but the pain was building quickly and Malfoy had made it go away, however he did it. 

‘Actually … while you’re here ... I mean if you’re- if you- we could- I mean however it happened …' He closed his eyes, okay Harry, you know none of them were full sentences. 

‘What?’ Eventually came Malfoy’s bland reply, he was staring at Harry like he was a total idiot, which he couldn’t blame him for, but somewhere in those eyes there still looked like there was a level of concern. 

‘You- I mean- I felt better- after …’ He sighed, clearly almost as frustrated as Draco was at his insipid rambling. ‘I felt better after you tried CPR,’ he even did the damn air quotes, ‘I don’t know why but- I- well I was thinking- I mean I wondered-’ 

‘What in Merlin’s name are you trying to say Potter?’ He growled, arms crossing over his chest as he glared down at him. 

Harry couldn’t keep eye contact while he said it, his voice coming out pathetically quiet. 

‘Maybe you can help again? I mean, I don’t know what you did and I don’t know if you can. And usually I wouldn’t even think of asking for whatever it is I’m asking for here, but with our new group and the new mission … They said I’d be on bed rest for weeks, which probably means a new allocation for all of us.’ See, it involved Malfoy anyway, he wasn’t completely selfishly asking for a kiss. 

Harry could almost hear the cogs in Malfoy’s head churning, but he wasn’t sure what they hell was going on in there. His eyes shifted back to the door, checking if anyone was coming? Did that mean? He didn’t have more time to think about it before he found Draco’s lips pressed against his and shit. His heart couldn’t decide if it was going to drill through his ribs or just stop flat. 

His lips were surprisingly soft, he didn’t have the chance to appreciate it last time. The way he gently moved against him was so cautious that Harry would have almost described it as loving, but he’ll blame the potions for that thought later on. 

When Malfoy pulled back Harry found himself leaning forward very slightly to chase his lips before he caught himself. He groaned in pain from the movement. His ribs were badly bruised and that shift had torn on the new skin that was trying to heal. 

‘Ow, fuck-’ he gasped, laying back carefully on the bed gasping slightly from the pain. Right, that was a stupid thought anyway, how had he thought that would help. 

Draco watched him, a slight crease on his forehead as he watched Harry. ‘It’s not enough.’ He sighed gently. 

Harry opened one eye, gazing at his curiously. ‘Not enough? For what?’ 

Malfoy sighed, sitting down in a chair at the side of the room, refusing to meet his eye. ‘A kiss is barely a connection,’ he added reluctantly ‘it’s not going to work with a kiss.’ 

Harry waited, hoping that Malfoy would explain more on his own but it didn’t seem like he was going to offer up anything else. He felt like he should let the conversation end there. Another kiss was probably more than enough and whatever he was feeling about it still wasn’t something he wanted to look into. But everything ached except his lips which still tingled and Malfoy was there, was pained on his behalf and was keeping something from him. 

‘What would it take … ?’ 

Malfoy snorted, the most indelicate and possibly most honest sound he’d ever heard from him. ‘Really Potter? What do you think is more intimate than a kiss? Maybe a fucking blow job?’ 

‘Okay.’ The word came out instantly and far, far too enthusiastic but he couldn’t exactly take it back, and couldn’t quite convince himself that he wanted to. 

Malfoy paused for a moment, staring at him and again, cogs, churning, churning, churning and he delicately pulled himself back to his feet, walking across to pull the stupid trolley into the room so he could close the door before he walked over to the bed. 

Holy shit. Was that a yes?! He was never going to understand this man. Malfoy climbed carefully onto the bed, straddling his knees but not touching him at all. From where he was it would have only taken him leaning forward and his mouth really would be there. He was actually doing to do this. 

‘I’m not-’ Harry tried to stutter over, part of his mind screaming that he needed to stop whatever this was. 

‘Merlin Potter. Yes yes, you’re not gay. A mouth is a mouth though. Just close your fucking eyes.’ 

He did as he was instructed, and felt the blankets being moved, and his hospital gown carefully tugged up. He tried not to think about who was doing it, who was touching him, and just concentrate on the soft tingle of magic that started to flick across his skin. Malfoy adjusting slightly and at the first touch of something warm and wet against his cock his eyes snapped open, staring down at the head of blonde hair. 

Shit! 

He felt his tongue lap tentatively at his tip, the heat of his breath along his length sent shivers down his spine. He knew he was staring as Malfoy slowly wrapped his mouth around him. He knew he was holding his breath as Malfoy sunk lower, taking him into the warmth of his mouth. He knew he gasped as Malfoy sucked gently, getting a feel for the weight of him against his tongue. He knew he couldn’t look away for a second as Malfoy’s steel eyes locked onto his, as he pulled back slowly then dropped back down, taking him in a little further every time he tried. 

He placed his hand gently on the inside of Harry’s leg closer to his knee than where he wanted it, almost hesitant. Unable to do anything else Harry eyes encouraged him. Please Merlin, touch, suck, kiss, anything! Just more of it all! 

His hand slid slowly down the inside of Harry’s thigh, his long elegant fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, twisting and stroking in time to meet his lips as low as he could go. Malfoy almost moaned, but he bit it off quickly, like he wouldn’t let himself enjoy it. It wasn’t meant to be for pleasure but Merlin it felt good all the same. Harry couldn’t hold himself back from thrusting up ever so slightly. He expected his skin to sting where it was healing and his ribs to protest at the movement, but he could feel Malfoy’s magic flowing straight to it the second it tinged and then it just felt even better. His hand reached down, brushing the soft hair from the side of Malfoy’s face, partially because he needed another point of contact and partially because he just had to feel it. 

His fingers twisted slightly through his hair, taking a better grasp on his head and controlling his pace. He thrust again, harder than he meant to and Malfoy gagged and pulled back instantly shooting him a glare. Harry gently stroked through his hair, hoping his eyes held enough of an apology because he knew if he tried for words, he’d pick the wrong ones. Malfoy sighed, tutting his tongue quietly in scolding but there was something amused and soft on his face as he lent back down and continued. 

Harry was careful from there to keep contact, his hand holding his hair or brushing Malfoy’s cheek. His eyes never leaving him, but he was careful not to move beyond that. It was only a few more strokes, a few dedicated sucks before Harry felt himself trembling. He tugged on the strands twisted between his fingers. 

‘Malfoy-’ he tried to warn, but it came out as a whine at the same time he let go. 

Clearly not enough warning and Malfoy pulled back halfway through getting half of it down his throat to cough on and half across his face. That earnt Harry another glare, which was fair enough. It wasn’t like that was his first blow job, he really should have had enough presence of mind to have pulled him off. Malfoy’s wand fell into his hand with a flick of his wrist and cast a cleaning charm over both of them. He raised the hospital gown higher, his fingertip grazing across his ribs which somehow felt more intimate then what they’d just done. Or at least softer. 

The skin he revealed was healed, not a single mark or bruise left from the mess that had been his torso just moments ago. Amazing. Malfoy pulled it back down, carefully climbed off the bed and threw the blankets back over him. Then he paused, watching him carefully, waiting for a response to … well everything he guessed? 

‘That was-’ Amazing? His fingers trembled as he did up his pants. ‘I mean … that wasn’t-’ what he’d expected, like anything he’d ever experienced, something he’d ever forget? ‘bad …' 

Draco spun, his eyes going cold instantly ‘That. Wasn't. Bad?’ his voice was clipped, low and dangerous. 

Shit, how had that possibly been what he ended up saying? That wasn’t what he meant, he didn’t want to hurt him, why did the words always come out wrong around Malfoy. He took a breath, looking away from the blades Draco was shooting at him, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off the man. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his lips were red from the stretch of having him inside his mouth … holy crap, he could still feel a tingle on his skin everywhere he had touched, he could feel his body responding again from just the memory. This was a more intense response than he’d ever had to Ginny the few times she’d tried that. 

Oh shit, Ginny. 

He fell back down on the bed. ‘Oh fuck.’ his face in his hands, ‘how could I have don’t that?’ he murmured. He felt sick, his stomach roiling the more he thought about it, how could he have done that to Ginny, to Malfoy. 

‘Disgusting.’ He’d just wanted to feel better and then the moment got away from him because … god, because he had wanted it. 

‘Excuse me?!’ Harry looked up, Malfoy was still there, his eyes even narrower as he glared down at him, ‘disgusting, am I?’ 

‘No, just, this.’ he waved lamely, this cheating, using him, just about everything that had happened. He took a shaky breath and tried again, knowing he had to explain, but before he got another word out a fist connected with the side of his face. 

He was thrown with the force of it, off the bed and onto the floor, his face throbbing enough from the pain that he actually wondered for a moment if it had broken anything just when he’d been healed. He couldn’t believe it had actually healed him. He hadn’t believed it was actually a thing, hell, he’d assumed it was the adrenaline of shock from the kiss that had given him strength the first time. When he’d asked now, he was maybe kind of hoping for a kiss … what he’d got was … well Dear Godric, he wouldn’t forget that any time soon. 

He watched him carefully through teared eyes, he couldn’t really tell but it looked like Malfoy was trembling, holding back- if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say tears, maybe pain? 

‘Fuck, I can’t believe you, Potter.’ he spat the taste of Harry out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand ‘you’re right. Disgusting.’ he managed before he disappeared from the room. Was his voice actually trembling? 

Harry picked himself up slowly, hand pressed against his stinging cheek. ‘Sorry Draco...’ he murmured, sitting back on the bed. The name felt surprisingly good to say. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what the apology to thin air was for though. To be fair, that entire interaction had been just as awkward and confusing as when they’d kissed. Okay, well, not the entire interaction. That blow job part had been pretty good. Fucking amazing. And the sensation of Malfoy’s magic flowing through him, healing him. That had been an experience. Though what, why and how swimming around the top of his mind now. He’d just wanted the pain to stop, he hadn’t actually thought Malfoy could help with weird and wonderful sexual healing powers. Seriously. How insane was that? He hadn’t gotten to ask why the hell Malfoy was handing out food here either. 

But fuck that punch hurt, for a scrawny bastard he such had a lot of muscle behind that. Then again, he wasn’t really that scrawny, anymore was he? That was the boy he knew from Hogwarts, not the man who was on his Auror team. No, the Auror Malfoy had to have enough muscles to do the same training he did, the way his robes hung didn’t give away much, but his shoulders were a bit wider and the way he moved … okay, he’d grown up. 

He gingerly rubbed his cheek; he’d grown up strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco *usual drawl*: Sorry darling, but didn’t you read the comments? The people wanted you punched!  
> Harry: Right, and you’ve always been such a man of the people …  
> Draco: Jealous we’ve swapped positions?  
> Harry *smirk*: I’m not opposed to the occasional swapping.  
> Draco *blush*: Shut it.


	5. By Proxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just chucking in random Drarry banter in the notes to break up poor Draco's pain, let me know if you like it!  
> Also, comments if I can do more Blaise! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco: How is it possible that you’re so monumentally bad at this? It’s almost impressive in its own rights.  
> Harry: Bad at what?  
> Draco: This … picking people up.  
> Harry: I’m great with that. I have lines. Ohh I have the perfect one for you!  
> Draco: Dare I ask …?  
> Harry: If I bit my lip, would you kiss it better?  
> Draco: Oh Merlin …  
> Harry: Get it, ‘cause your sexy healing magic?  
> Draco: Don’t even. Salazar give me strength.

In Azkaban it was hard to tell hours from days or weeks or months. 

Through his first year there he only had one recurring visitor. Pansy couldn’t bring herself to visit him, and he understood that, Blaise brought updates from her though, word for word messages she’d sent and he knew they was the best she could do. He’d never be able to understand how Blaise could stomach it. More than that, how he managed it time and time again with that confident, calm smile always on his face. For his four fucking years trapped there, that smile was a constant. 

Blaise came every Wednesday. 2.30. On the dot. Always. 

He stayed for 32 minutes. 30 was technically the limit but the guards always flirted with him, and he used the extra time to linger in front of Draco’s bars. Even those extra 120 seconds of hearing a voice, his voice, meant more than he could ever put into words. They meant sanity, routine, reality, life. 

In all of his years there Blaise only missed one day in Draco’s sixth month there, and ever then, he was only a day late. Draco hardly remembered it now, but he knew that was the one-time Blaise hadn’t been able to keep up his smile. Blaise had never really been able to describe what it was about Draco he’d seen that day that had scared him into keeping so tightly to the schedule. Or maybe he could, he just wanted to spare Draco that. 

Other than Blaise, in his years there he had two other visitors. 

In his second year there, his mother had come once, holding herself with a strength, poise and elegance in the face of dementors that Draco would never forget. She has smiled at him, cupped his hand through the bars, just the right level of supportive and gentle. He’d swear that he could feel her love and magic through the warmth of that one touch. That was the day he knew he could make it to the end. She might not have been the image of Potter he clung to in order to survive, but it was a reminder of the strength in his blood. His determination and who he was. In that second, in that touch, he knew he couldn’t lose himself. He knew that once he was out of there, he’d be able to build himself up. 

He was a Malfoy, a Black, a Veela and Narcissa Malfoy’s son for fucks sake. This was not enough to break him. 

Two Blaise visits later Andromeda Tonks visited to let him know his Father had died in a cell a few down from his a few days ago. And he hadn’t even noticed. It was barely even out of his reach; he could have been there. He might have heard it and simply not registered. It was hard to remember what had happened that day. He hated the man, but he was his father, it was never going to be that simple. The idea that he was just gone … well … he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

She went on to tell him that her sister had followed behind the day before. 

He knew how he felt about that. 

Nothing can compare to the grated, pain of the screech that left his lips after that. His wings flashed out, bent as they were in his tiny cell, edges still ash from the battle. As pathetic and damaged as they were, they still managed to slice through the sides of his cell. The razed edge of the pitiful excuses for feathers grated through the rock, leaving the damaged rock dust and blood in the lines they carved as the raised themselves to their full glory the best they could in his containment. 

He lunged forward, his features sharper, eyes a rolling molten silver, teeth sharpened to slice through his lips as he curved them to scream a single word. 

‘NO!’ 

There were magic dampeners through every speck of dust in that place, after a year here there was no guarantee you’d ever be able to use magic again. But as his claws curled around the bars his magic flared, tampered as it was it was still enough to sweep through the prison and bring the dementors straight down to him. 

To Andromeda’s credit she hadn’t flinched away. She’d kept eye contact with him while he broke, moving close enough to the bars that the dementors would have had to go through her to restrain him, and they didn’t dare. 

‘When you get out of here-’ 

‘If.’ He barely formed the word, his voice already weak from disuse now trembled from exertion. 

‘When,’ she pressed, ‘you’ll stay with me until you figure something out. We’ve both got precious little family left Draco. I refuse to lose another.’ 

She’d waited until he’d managed a nod before she finally let the guards lead her out. And true to her word she was there to greet him the day he was released with a four-year-old balanced on her hip, staring up at the giant prison without a care in the world. 

That was his welcome back to the real world, along with Blaise and Pansy it had been more than enough. Enough to live for. 

\------------ 

His wings were stretched as far from his body as they could, as though if they could rip away from his skin then they’d at least be spared the pain. The rejected coursed through him, his claws digging at the carpet for once which was a nice relief for his skin, but that was only because he couldn’t take the contact. It was like every cell of his body was trying to kill itself so it wouldn’t allow another part of him a shot at it. As he screeched, throwing his head back, body contorting into an inhuman position, he could taste Potter, on his stretched lips, in his mouth, down his throat. What an interesting way to thank a bloke for a blow job. 

He smiled wryly at that thought. Sure, his life was based around literal torture now, but he had to get his amusement from somewhere, and he had always been the best source of entertainment. When his screaming subsided he registered that there were noises in his flat. Gasping through the last ebbs of pain he looked up to see Blaise, leaning against the arm of the couch, eating soup. Yeah, that seemed about right. 

‘A little help here dick …' He grumbled, holding out an arm to be helped to his feet. Blaise let out a weary sigh as he pushed off the couch. 

‘Honestly, did you have to interrupt lunch?’ his dark hand wrapped around Draco’s pale forearm, heaving him to his feet with almost no assistance from the still shivering Veela as he called over his shoulder, ‘he’s decent now Pans.’ 

Pansy hated seeing him like that, when she walked into the room carrying two bowls, one for each of them, he could still see the pain on her face from hearing it, even if she tried to hide it with a smile. Blaise called his attention back quickly enough though, in his eyes he could only read mild curiosity, not the fear Pansy’s held. 

‘So, what happened? I thought we’d be safe on not work days?’ 

Draco leaned into his shoulder, staring at the bowl of soup Pansy had given him. 

‘Volunteer work.’ He grumbled, picking up the spoon and let the liquid run back off it. 

‘Potter injured like the careless Gryffindor he is?’ 

Draco nodded. 

‘You were only too happy to help?’ 

Nod. 

‘Pushed you away the second he was okay and realised what happened?’ 

‘Called it disgusting …' he admitted softly. 

Pansy growled ‘called what disgusting? A simple fucking kiss that saves his arse?!’ 

‘Ahh … no … I kinda …’ he could feel Blaise’s eyes on him, probably half for his terrible use of language there and half interested in what he had to say, ‘I sucked him off.’ 

Blaise snorted, ‘no shit. Way to go Draco. I mean, disgusting isn’t exactly what you want to hear your first go around but I’m going to put that to Potter’s spectacularly big foot finding his mouth as usual, not your abilities.’ 

Draco managed a wane smile up at the older man at that, cringing slightly when Pansy jumped in to add her two knuts. 

‘He’s just using you.’ Pansy whined, Merlin, her voice took on such an unpleasant nasal quality when she did that. ‘Just because Harry is-’ her mouth kept moving but ancient runes glowed in a circle in from of it, blocking out what he knew was coming next. Stupid old magic. 

The conversation continued like always, just ignore that that part happened. 

‘So? You think I care? Let him use me, it’s actually the healthier choice right now.’ He shrugged. He knew how pathetic that sounded, and really, she was right, he wasn’t that weak in any other regard. But she didn’t know how it felt … 

‘I’ll kill him.’ She hissed fiercely. 

‘No, you won’t.’ He waved her off wearily. 

‘I would if I thought it would help you!’ 

‘It wouldn’t. It would kill me.’ He said it with such finality that Pansy stopped her rant and sunk, defeated into the chair beside him. 

Blaise simply shrugged. ‘If this ends up killing you. I will kill him.’ 

Draco stared at him for a moment. That wasn’t even a threat, that was a promise. And though the Veela tensed at the words, the Slytherin in him grinned. But it was still probably safest to move the conversation away from that for deniability sake. 

‘Though … come to think of it … I am hungry …' He tried not to look into the meaning behind how ecstatic his friends looked at those words. For the first time in almost 10 years, he actually wanted to eat. If that wasn’t worth heartache and a blow job he wasn’t sure what was. 

He reached out and finally picked up the bowl of soup. It might not be that bad. He’d thought just having passing contact would be enough, if not that then the rejection was at least at feeling. The more he had actual contact with Potter though, the more he couldn’t help but want more. Luckily Potter was a reckless idiot, if he kept getting hurt, and kept letting Draco help, maybe that would be enough that his Veela would feel satisfied? That he was a useful part of his life? Maybe then he’d get a few normal days. A day where he wanted to get out of bed would be enough. 

\---- 

When Monday finally came around, he wasn’t sure what to expect. When he walked into their task room Potter was already there with Weasley standing at the front of the room, Tyson was already in a seat, his “fuck Draco” glare already in place. Which was actually better than Potter’s obnoxiously loud avoiding his existence. He wasn’t quite sure how loud was the descriptor there, but from the way he ignored the door, shifted around just enough so that Draco was barely in his line of sight and managed not to even break the conversation it felt like the right word. He took no small amount of pride in the bruise blooming across Potter’s cheek though, despite the sudden urge to kiss it better, he knew the bastard deserved it. 

Draco fell into a chair behind the desk at the opposite side of the room from Tyson, he could manage this. He looked down at the folder waiting on the desk. Black objects smuggling ring, no wonder he and Blaise were so suited to it. As he flicked through the pages he had to wonder if this was the only case type they’d be put on, if they’d somehow get accused of it, if they’d even be trusted to help. 

Blaise sauntered into the room, tossing him a apple muffin. His caught it thanks to his, somehow still sharp, seeker reflexes, glaring at the man while offering him a silent thanks for breaking him out of that spiral of thought. 

‘You’re late.’ he grumbled as Blaise dropped into the chair beside him. 

‘What?’ he looked shockingly appalled at that accusation, though even the dramatics on him held an air of careless ‘surely not. The big bosses haven’t even started the debrief yet.’ He nodded to where Weasley and Potter stood at the front of the room. They finally stopped talking. 

Potter’s eyes scanned across the room, when he did that, he couldn’t quite avoid looking at Draco. In the brief second their eyes locked he wasn’t really sure what he read in them. That was an emotion he hadn’t seen before, but the slight tinge of red the crept into his cheeks certainly helped him at least know what quidditch pitch it was in. It wasn’t a full blush; you’d only be able to tell if you were watching him closely. And Draco was always watching him closely. 

Potter sighed and held up the file, identical to the ones on each of their desks. ‘Read these. I want you to know them word for word backwards when we catch up after lunch. We’ll set up the board and got over questions and strategies then.’ 

And that was it. That was all the bastard offered them before dropping the folder and walking out of the room. 

Blaise leaned across, once again interrupting Draco’s fuming. ‘Please tell me that lovely black and blue was your doing, Drake?’ 

Draco managed to shoot him a confirmation grin before jumping up to follow Potter out of the room. Despite the other shit going on, the main excuse he had for that damn blow job was to keep him on the job. He didn’t bother doing that to get a shitty leader barely staying in the same room as the team. If this was going to get in the way of the job, he had to know now. 

When he got to the door he spotted the mop of black hair and the offending orange just a few steps down the hall. It seemed like Potter had stopped but Weasley nudged him on. 

‘Come on, mate. Let’s go.’ Weasley grumbled, knocking shoulders with him, Potter nodded and headed further down the corridor. 

Draco’s Veela bristled, no you idiot bird, he didn’t mean it like that. If he couldn’t even hear that word said to Potter then this was going to be a problem. Okay, they were going to have to come to some agreements if they were going to be able to get through this. The first wat, Weasley wasn’t allowed to talk. At all. Ever. 

Weasley glanced back and spotted him, gaping in the doorway trying to control the surge of rage. He was fairly sure his expression was controlled, he was a Malfoy after all, but Weasley walked up to him anyway, regardless, or perhaps because of, his sneer. 

‘I don’t know what you’re playing at Malfoy, but we will find out. It’s not like any of us want you on the team. Harry tried to pull all the strings he could to get rid of you, we may be stuck with you for now but he will get rid of you.’ 

How the hell did Weasley have the right to reject him on Harry’s behalf?! But he did, Draco could feel the familiar sting. 

Draco ran a self-assessment: 

Yes, definitely rejection, he guessed they were essentially family after all. Who’d know his mind better? 

Veela shuddered, but he could hold it back, he thought, for now. 

He had to get out of here though, fast. 

He nodded, figuring that wordless agreement was probably the quickest way to get him out of the conversation. Unfortunately, he didn’t even have the chance to enjoy the shocked, fishlike gaping on the idiot’s face. He spun, letting his cloak billow slightly behind him. Yes, technically he was turning tail and running out of there as quickly as possible, but he didn’t have to look it as he strode down the hallway, head high and shoulders rigid as he fought against the pain. 

He had barely turned two corners, still a far cry from his escape before he ran into Granger. She almost stuttered out an apology before her eyes rose enough from the page she was reading and she spotted who exactly she’d run into. 

‘Sorry Granger.’ He tried quickly, going to step around her, again, path of least resistance even if it wasn’t his fault in any way shape or form that the girl couldn’t bare being parted from a book. 

Hermione glared across at him, stepping in his way, clearly already ready with a rant. So, Potter and Weasley had already whined to her about it hey? 

‘Malfoy, great. I was really hoping I’d get to speak to you before they started on this case. I just wanted to make sure you’d thought this through properly. Personally, I really don’t think anything good can come of having you both on the same team.’ She rearranged the books under her arm as Draco grit his teeth in pain, luckily she was happy to continue her one-sided conversation without him. 

‘I know it’s not entirely your fault, Harry doesn’t always act in a clear frame of mind when you’re around. But, that’s why it would be best for both of you if you just stepped back. He shouldn't have to deal with you again after all these years of peace. I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck near him either.’ 

Draco nodded, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip. ‘Sure, thanks Granger, I’ll think about that.’ He managed to get out. 

He tried to step around her again, but she blocked his path easily, looking a little confused, if not slightly concerned. ‘Malfoy?’ 

Self-assessment: 

Bastard son of Salazar Slytherin. Let him get out of here! 

He shrugged her off as she tried to put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get past as quickly as he could. One more block, one more breath and the pain grew too much. 

His wings trembled, his feet refused to pick themselves up off the floor and he dropped to his knees with a scream. Wings bursting into sight, stretching out behind him as he reached back to claw at them. He could feel the flesh tear beneath them and the familiar warmth of blood over them. 

Through the pain he felt the ripple of a Muffliato around them and Draco made a note that he owed her a thanks later, you know, when tears weren’t rolling down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Go on, you have to do one!  
> Draco: Fine ... I’m like a rubik’s cube. The more you play with me the harder I get.  
> Harry: I can’t believe you just said that.  
> Draco *blushing*: I- But- you jus-  
> Harry: Since when did you follow my lead? Honestly Draco, I thought you were better than that.  
> Draco: Fuck you Potter.  
> Harry: Now there’s a pick-up line.


	6. For Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco: You know most people put our teasing down to hair pulling tactics. I take offence at that. It was much higher quality.   
> Harry: Like nose breaking?   
> Draco: Exactly, not childish strategies.   
> Harry: But it was because you liked me.   
> Draco: That’s not at all what I said Potter. I’m merely clarifying my emotional maturity here.   
> Harry: Well done, you’re more violent than a primary school kid but use the logic of one.   
> Draco *glare*: That’s not an improvement.   
> Harry *sniggers*: Yeah, I’m not sure why you’re arguing that one.

Fourth year had been confusing to say the least. For a few precious days at the start of the year he thought that maybe, just maybe, this year wouldn’t revolve around the Wonder Boy. Then the names were called out of the goblet. Of course, the idiot did manage to make it about him. Draco’s eyes went straight to where he knew Potter was sitting with his friends. It took one look to know that Potter hadn’t planned this. Potter didn’t want this. 

Maybe he had to reconsider a few assumptions about the boy … 

Through that year his teasing and taunting was less just to piss Potter off, hell, he didn’t really even want his attention. It was, in his own way, trying to support him. 

He could tell when Potter was exhausted, close to giving up on the bloody challenges, and he coaxed him (okay, maybe a bit harshly) to keep going day after day. He could tell that Weasley was pissed at Potter, so, a little extra cruelty here and there, pushing it into the Prophet, just nudges to remind Weasley of how much Potter hated all of this. He was meant to be his best friend, surely he could see it! And then there were the badges. 

Come on, they were a work of creative, charmed genius. That might have been slightly more just for him, but Merlin they were good. 

When he disappeared under the water- Well, he wasn’t going to go so far as to say that he forgot to breath. He breathed through it – with his nails digging into Blaise’s arm almost enough to draw blood. He ignored the curious look the older boy gave him. He was good enough to never actually bring it up but that was probably the moment Blaise was sure of Draco’s little crush. Of course, that was completely forgotten when he saw him at the Yule ball. The bastard! 

Hopeless dancer, stupid twit of a girl with him, moping all night over another girl. All the while Draco basically just moped over him. That was probably when Pansy worked it out. She graciously still dragged Draco to the dance floor and they danced like the perfect pure-blood children they were with plenty of eyes on them. He was glad he still had moments like these to enjoy. 

Fleur Delacour was the real surprise of the year though. It didn’t take long for her to start spending time with Draco between his classes. He was willing to put up with it for long enough, she was actually quite pleasant company. When it started digging into his “harassing Potter” time though, he had to ask her why. 

Her answer had been a simple. ‘We Veela’s must stick together, no?’ 

He cursed his blonde hair for that assumption. Sure, there was some Veela blood in the Malfoy line but it was so far back it really shouldn’t be mentioned anymore. Besides, a male Veela? Hell no. Though ... 

Then there was the dragon. Then there was the maze. Then he flashed back and the whispers began to spread that a champion from Hogwarts was dead. 

No, no, no, no. NO!!! 

He didn’t remember much after that. Blaise and Pansy managed to smuggle him away, muffle his screeches and hide his wings. Thank Merlin for magic and Salazar for Slytherin’s “assess before react” response. His friends had no clue what had happened, but they had the presence of mind to hide it from everyone else until they could work it out. 

His first rejection came shortly after that. He hadn’t known anything in this world could hurt that much. Then he had a few years of it, along with memories of Potter to keep him sane while locked in the manor surrounded by murderers. He’d remember his smile, his laugh, things that weren’t meant for him, but he kept them anyway. They gave him hope that Potter was strong enough to get through this. Forget that Chosen One nonsense, he was Harry Bloody Potter, nothing was going to be able to stop him. 

When he was in Azkaban he lost all of that. Each of the memories that he’d clung to for happiness were stolen from him one by one. People say that being in the presence of a Dementors makes you feel like there’s no happiness left in the world. That’s true for the first few seconds. 

It’s a shock to have those feelings drained but once you adapt it’s just like a blanket, muting everything happy that you’ve ever know, you can still reach it though and force the memory through. When you’re exposed to them for long periods of time though, they start taking those memories. Not literally, he could still recall them, just all the emotion of them was wiped one by one. That’s when he began to recall the rejections. 

They were different memories of Potter, the only ones he had left that still had emotions tied into them. They began precious to him. That feeling of pain and terror and loss became so sweet because he could FEEL it. And the Dementors couldn’t take that away. 

There was nothing happy about them, but they meant survival. 

\------------ 

When he woke up it took him a moment to work out where he was and what had happened. He was on a couch, in what seemed like a private office in the ministry? Crap, this was the first time in a while he’d actually blacked out from the pain. Now where the hell was he? He’d been with … shit … a pissed and pregnant Granger. 

Not to mention these were work hours. He’d been lucky with the last two times; the changing room had been them done for the day and the other day all they needed was to get the test results and their placements. Today he had work, hopefully he hadn’t been out too long. 

He sat up, his wings twitching and disappearing behind him. He spun when he heard a gasp in the corner of the room. Yup, Granger. 

‘So, you can control them. That’s really interesting.’ She walked straight over to her desk, scribbling down notes. ‘I have some questions for you if you don’t mind? I tried to look up information on Veela’s but there’s very little actual information on them. Not to mention the information there is seems to largely be biased and contradictory in general. I’m really not sure what points to believe; though given the current situation I am going to assume the fact that Veela’s are only females is grossly incorrect.’ 

Draco stared at her, blinking slowly as he tried to decide what course of action would be best to take. ‘Why do you say Veela?’ he tried carefully, not quite denying, he wasn’t going to outright lie to the woman, thanks to her he wasn’t currently on display at St Mungo’s and, hopefully, the entire Ministry wasn’t now aware of his little predicament. 

The dismissive glare she shot him as she looked up from the multiple texts scattered on her desk was scathing. ‘Please Draco, they might have shitty accounts on the details, but I know Veela wings when I see them. So, male.’ 

He sighed, seemed like they were doing this. ‘Yes, I am indeed male. If you want to know about Veela’s you should just ask Fleur Granger, isn’t she your family by tacky Weasley ring?’ 

Granger shot him a glare for the “cheap” shot, but decided to move past the comment and focus on the information she was after. 

‘I’ve asked her a bit, but she isn’t an actual Veela, just Veela blood. Veela’s don’t share their secret to anyone, not even family if they’re not ‘winged’, ‘pure’, ‘transitioned’, maybe? The books make a lot of different references …' 

Draco sighed, he knew exactly what she meant, most of those stuffy old books were the same as the ones that he’d poured over trying to work out this whole damn thing. ‘If you know that then why are you bothering me?’ 

She glanced up from another one of the books, a very Slytherin proud grin on her face. ‘Because, I helped you. I protected you from being found. I’m not sure if that means much to a Veela, but I know a debt like that will matter to a pure blood. Right Malfoy?’ 

Draco couldn’t quite stifle a chuckle, okay that was some impressive thinking for a Gryffindor. ‘Really, Granger? Using blood status against me? That’s low.’ He placed a hand to his chest dramatically, enjoying the moment, ‘I’m truly wounded.’ 

He saw the flicked of doubt in her eyes at that statement, of course she was too goody two shoes to press the matter, and he was too much of a Slytherin to not use that to his advantage. But she had helped so she probably did deserve something for her efforts if they made it through his next demand at least. 

‘I’ll forgive you for that blood dig if you forgive me for mine?’ 

Granger frowned for a moment, as though waiting for his insult. He locked eyes with her, making sure to control his expression into the earnest one he needed right now instead of his mask. When it dawned on her that he meant the insults from school she sighed. 

‘I’m not going to forgive them if you’re not sorry for them Malfoy. Regardless of what you might-’ 

‘Of course, I’m sorry.’ he cut in without thinking. ‘I don’t know what I can actually do to make up for it but I know it was terrible. Anyone who lived through the war and still believes that nonsense might actually deserve Azkaban.’ He still couldn’t quite say the word without trembling, the same way most people still whispered Voldemort. 

Granger nodded and smiled slightly at that. Her looked seemed like actual forgiveness to Draco so he slouched back on the couch as much as his pure blood upbringing would let him (it wasn’t slouching in any sense of the word). ‘Fine Granger, have at it. I’ll answer what I can, but please, don’t write or share my answers.’ 

It looked like it physically pained her, but the bushy-haired girl nodded. ‘So, you can control your wings.’ 

That had already been confirmed when he made them disappear, so he nodded. 

‘Can you fly.’ 

He couldn’t see how that could do any damage for her to know, just about every other Veela had confirmed that too. So, she earnt another nod. 

‘Can you use an “allure” of any description?’ 

He smirked, okay vague questions were probably meant to prompt more of an answer, he just nodded. When that only earnt him a glare he sighed and decided to give her a little more. He did owe her after all. 

‘Yes, kind of. I can specifically use it if I ever want to, but I never have. Otherwise it’s mostly tied to my emotions, when I’m nervous, scared or in danger, anything that the Veela feels like I might need protection from, it pulls to anyone who might be susceptible. Makes for some seriously awkward fights.’ He smirked as he remembered a training mission where the suspect had ended up basically humping him leg rather than fighting him. Not really something he wanted to repeat but it did have certain uses. 

‘Have you ever used it on purpose?’ 

He sighed ‘It’s an instinct Granger, of all people fighting for creature rights I’d thought you might understand that. But no, I've never directed it at someone without their permission.’ Testing the effects on Blaise or Pansy, while awkward and very informative, certainly did not count. 

She nodded curtly, clearly there was more on that train that she’d like to follow but it seemed like she had a mental list of questions she had to tick off first. A lot of the other questions were more basic, just confirming information that clearly had other contradicting sources. Like did he have a “heat”, gross, no. 

‘Can you have kids?’ 

He bit his lip; this was into more dangerous male Veela specific territory. ‘With a woman sure, if you mean could I carry … there … has been one recorded case, not exactly confirmed but I believe it to be largely reputable. Only with my Mate though.’ 

From the look on Granger’s face he’d just opened up a new line of inquiry that he really shouldn’t have. ‘Right, Mates. So, how serious is that?’ 

Draco sighed, might as well rip off this band aid. ‘One per life. Not really sure how it’s picked, Destiny, compatibility, grown, whatever you want to believe in. But once we have one that’s it, there are no other partners for us. We can’t even imagine someone else’s touch, insanely protective and all that rot.’ 

‘And … if you’re rejected by your one Mate?’ 

‘Happens. There’s a reason Veela’s are so rare. But rejection … hurts.’ He tried to brush it off, but something in his voice seemed to give more than he meant away. 

Granger gasped ‘so that pain, you have a Mate? She’s here? Did she just reject you?’ 

Draco wondered if she realised that the obligatory sympathy was missing from her voice in deference to the sheer curiosity. He rather liked that about her, he had to admit. 

‘No, I was rejected on their behalf, turns out they don’t need to be present to do the damage.’ 

‘But you’re not dead.’ Again, pure curiosity in her tone. Maybe it was just because it was him, or at least a little bit, but he couldn’t help but grin at her for the blunt questions. 

‘Not last I checked.’ 

‘You’re not meant to be able to survive rejection. That’s one thing all Veela’s and texts agree on.’ She was flicking through the pages of the books in front of her, offended that anyone suggested her precious tomes could be wrong. She didn’t seem to register that she was adamantly insisting on his death here. 

Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed, hard, doubled over on the couch. Something about the innocence of such a cruel statement was … beautiful. It was something he couldn’t imagine anyone other than Hermione pulling off. And yes, with that she’d certainly earnt her first name credit. 

‘Sorry Hermione, I’m just that good.’ He grinned, winking at her when she looked up and was a little thrilled at the blush on her cheeks. This was the kind of confident banter he enjoyed, he never though he’d have that with anyone other than his two snakes. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was a pleasant exasperated smile on her face. ‘Well done then.’ she leant forward, a little more serious as she held eye contact with him. ‘Is she here at the Ministry?’ 

He watched her for a moment, considering. Today probably wasn’t going to be a fluke, there would be plenty of times being rejected would get in the way of his job and it would be bloody useful to have an excuse. ‘That’s very person information, Hermione. I’ll need more from you if you want that.’ 

‘What?’ A good, wary response, at least that meant she’d take it seriously. 

‘Will you help me cover if I’m in this situation again?’ 

‘You mean collapsing screaming in the middle of the office.’ No tact, he might get used to that. 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Doesn’t that put you and your team in danger in your job?’ Of course, it was her husband and baby daddy in question here. 

Draco shrugged ‘I work late, I take files home, it won’t affect how much I’m contributing to the team. And in the field, I hardly think they’ll have time to come round and make sure I’m rejected then. Not to mention the adrenaline helps.’ And as long as Potter was in the field his protective instincts were bound to keep him upright. 

She frowned, considering him for a moment. ‘What will you need from me?’ 

Draco kept his expression carefully blank as though he was only considering it now. How much would he be able to get from her with basically no more than schoolyard gossip to give here? Probably everything he needed if he answered it right. 

‘Just a cover with your husband and best friend if I’m missing and hopefully an office to hide in? I know it’s a lot to ask but I just might need it if I’m rejected by him again-’ He cut himself off slightly early, the carefully dropped “accidental” confession of being gay, along with the blush on his cheeks and averted gaze seemed to do the trick just fine. There was the right amount of sympathy in her voice when she responded. 

‘Oh Draco, of course.’ He mentally patted himself on the back. Along with the assumption that he wasn’t even sure he’d run into his mystery Mate again, that was fairly perfect. There was also the fact that she was only the fourth person he’d ever shared even that much with, but that was as close to him as he was willing to let her get for the day. 

He nodded ‘Right, well, thank you.’ keeping himself suitably awkward he walked to her office door. She stood with limited ease given her size, one hand placed gently on her stomach as she walked to the door with him. 

‘Of course, Draco, just let me know when I’m needed. I might also have more questions each visit; I hope that’s okay.’ 

He smiled, that’s right, there was plenty of selfish in her intentions here too. ‘Of course, Hermione. It would be my pleasure.’ 

When they stepped out he almost ran straight into Weasley and Potter, obviously about to come in to visit Hermione. He wasn’t surprised at the looks of shock on their faces, he was surprised at how smoothly Granger stepped up beside him, covering with an excuse as though she already had it ready. 

‘Thanks for the help Draco, sorry I kept you for so long but I really think getting your perspective on things will really help with this case. It makes it easier to be prepared when I know I've got multiple sides covered and the pure blood opinion is definitely one that will be fighting me on this.’ 

Still a dig at the blood comment, but it did make sense as a cover, and was the perfect excuse to need him again with little to no notice. Excellent, she was already proving to be a fairly useful ally. Maybe this was a good first day after all. 

‘No problem, Hermione. It was my pleasure, really.’ He offered her a genuine smile, trying to ignore the way the two men were staring at him. He was a little nervous, it was probably showing through the damn allure even if he had his face behind his perfect Malfoy mask. 

‘D-did you read the file Malfoy?’ Potter asked, trying to cut through how awkward that moment was. There was almost a gentleness in his voice, but he’d chalk that up to the shock. Or maybe he couldn’t have a harsher voice in front of a pregnant woman? He did seem like the family type. 

‘I’m afraid not.’ he directed his answer to the Weasel. ‘Your wife accosted me. I can hardly be blamed for that can I?’ 

Ron sighed ‘Fine, you know what? It’s already too late to do a full debrief anyway. I’ll just get everyone to go home, make sure you read ait thoroughly overnight and we’ll cover it tomorrow afternoon. Combat in the morning.’ 

That was all the approval he needed. He nodded, glancing once back at Hermione’s easy smile at her indulgent husband. That ached, but he had escaped the day. A good night sleep with a file was exactly what he needed to keep going. Not to mention he did love the excuse to beat up Blaise or Tyson in combat. Tomorrow would be much better if he could just get home safely. 

He made it into the room, glancing at his phone to see a simple ‘?’ text from Blaise and chuckled. He’d been worried about him, how touching. 

‘Draco.’ Came a soft call from the door. He turned, with the soft smile still on his face, expecting to see Blaise. He really should have thought about it more. That voice was deep but it wasn’t right, he just hadn’t expected anyone else to call him that. 

‘Draco.’ Potter tested the name again. ‘I didn’t know you were on a first name basis with ‘Mione?’ His voice was still gentle as he took another step into the room, a curious expression on his face. 

Draco wanted to flee; he wasn’t sure why but it just felt like the kind of situation that you shouldn’t let yourself get caught in. His lips parted slightly, tongue darting out to lick them nervously as he glanced around the room before his eyes landed back on the muscular man still approaching him. At this point he could feel his allure basically humming from his skin. He was in danger, needed protection, and his Mate was right there, of course it should be going. 

Shit, shit, shit! 

Potter pushed him back against his desk and his lips were instantly pressed against his. This wasn’t like the kisses before, Potter was very much in control. His lips moving softly but insistently against his. His hand cupped the back of his head, running through the blonde’s hair while Draco grasped for dear life onto the table behind him, trying to calm himself down while his mind was shutting down at just the feel of his lips. Then – sweet Salazar – the feel of his tongue. 

He gave up, melting into the touch a soft moan of pleasure escaped as his lips parted and Potter deepened the kiss. He had no idea how long it went on. No idea who held who in place. Who tilted, who’s hands clung tighter in who’s hair. But it was Potter’s hand who slid down first, brushing at the bottom of his shirt and fingers crept beneath the fabric, setting fire to him as he touched the hard planes of his stomach. 

Draco pulled away with a gasp, hitting the table he was leaning against back a little further and there was finally some space between them. His breath came out harsh and staggered as he stared at Potter. What had he …? Why had he …? 

‘Are you hurt?’ Draco managed to get out, he barely recognised the breathy voice that came from his mouth. That had to be the reason, right? Why else would he possibly-? 

Potter shook his head slowly, still staring at him, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. 

‘No. I just- I mean- you looked-' He cut himself off from that almost compliment Draco thought he might have been gearing up for. 

‘Ginny came back-’ he seemed like he was trying to stuttered though some other comments there, but nothing came out until he shook his head again. ‘I have to go.’ He basically sprinted from the room; door slamming closed behind him. 

This wasn’t fair. When his words were accepting but his actions were rejection; it counted as a rejection. When his actions were accepting and his words were rejecting; it counted as a bloody rejection. When his friends rejected him it counted, when his friends accepted him, or near as he would ever expect from Granger, nothing. It was like his Veela enjoyed the pain as much as he did and would just take any excuse. 

Self-assessment:   
First day, third rejection of the day. His nerves were fried.   
He could feel the pain shooting through them but he didn’t even have the strength to scream. He curled up into a tight ball, no consideration for the ground beneath him or the fear of getting caught. He had nothing left.   
Why?! Why the kiss? Why linger just to do this to him again? 

This wasn’t the life he wanted … 

He dimly recalled Blaise sweeping in at some point. He got him out, got him home, made him safe. His weekly reminder of why he lived was quickly becoming a daily necessity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco: And why do people think I’m obsessed with apples? I ate one, once.   
> Harry: And looked bloody good doing it.   
> Draco: Perv.


	7. Friends and All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco: Okay, no, sorry. I need to take a breath. Blaise, I’m tagging you in.   
> Blaise: Happy to take over, are we up to bending Potter over the desk or …   
> Draco & Harry: Don’t you dare!   
> Blaise *chuckling*: Right, let’s see if I can find something else to entertain myself and our adoring audience then.

Blaise was a Slytherin, a dedicated son, a loyal friend and a bloody good lover, and that wasn’t just his opinion, he had nosy friends who had literally taken surveys. That was about all that made up his personality when it really came down to it, and he was bloody proud of each one of them. When push came to shove though it was surprising how quickly everything that makes up a person can crumble. 

War is without a doubt the best place to prove that. 

Sixth year, Pansy was a mess, freaking out about Draco as the idiot Veela pulled away from them, but not really sure how much she could push him. Not sure who to talk to in the common room to walk that dangerous neutral line that few families tried to walk, one that Blaise tried to balance with her. If the Dark Lord won, they probably both had enough friends on that side that they could fall into place beside them as though they’d been there the whole time. If the Dark Lord fell then they never had any actual connection with it, so safe! 

Cowardly Slytherin. 

Pansy’s family was a bit harder; her father had enough dealing to definitely put them on just the dark side of that line. Blaise’s mother was … well … with a new suiter at the time, as though the whole war was beneath her. Each new romance was life a death to her anyway so of course that took a higher priority. Before returning to school she had talked to him about it, it was the most serious she’d ever seen him. She told him to keep as far away from anyone marked as he possibly could, it turned out they did have an alliance then. The second he got to school he knew that Draco was definitely one that he should avoid if he was following his mother’s wishes. But he didn’t. 

Disobedient son. 

He watched as Draco sank further into his own torment. He tried to be there for him, in a way. He was there to talk to about the light stuff, about classes and trivial matters, but he knew he leaned away from anything heavier. He knew that Draco was doing something. He knew that he could have helped if he’d pressed. He knew how to break his friend, how to support him, and if Draco had asked he would have been willing to die for him that year. That thought scared him far too much, so he made sure to avoid situations where Draco might ask. 

Failure as a friend. 

And, well, that year was a mess. He didn’t really have much time for sex. 

So, yeah, that year he basically lost all parts of his personality. The second he could build each of them back up he might have gone a little over the top. He was Slytherin proud, hissing and all. As a bonus green looked bloody good on him. He charmed and bought the good graces of everyone he needed to set things up for him and Draco with the Aurors, staying at just the right level to get them adjusted to the idea. To make friends in each year that went past while Draco was in prison so they had plenty on their side on the force when they got through, not just their year. 

That seemed to cover the Slytherin and friend part of his personality. 

He did all of this for Draco, more likely to jump to offering his life, or at least risking it, the second Draco or Pansy needed him. Giving up any other career for Draco was an easy choice. Aurors sounded fun enough, they were usually fit enough to sleep with and kept him toned. When Draco said it was too much he couldn’t find a way to explain that by doing this he was gaining a crucial part of himself back. It barely even made sense to him. 

As for son … well he’d been best man at two out of three weddings since the end of the war. He figured that counted. 

And lover? Well, what the hell else was he meant to do while he was waiting to move on with his life for four years. 

Each trip to Azkaban took a little more out of him. It took about six days to get the chill of that place out of his bones and then on the seventh day, to celebrate, he went back. He had always known that the Malfoy heir was strong, but through that time he was reminded just how strong that bastard was. 

He didn’t care what anyone said. No other Veela had suffered the rejection he had and lived. No one else could have given up so much for their family through the war. No one else could have suffered with such dignity through Azkaban. No one else could find out they’d lost their damn family anyway and still walk out of that horrible place with a smile on his lips for the pieces of a new family he’d found. Blaise had been there for the Veela the day he’d been released. The look on his face when he had gently taken Teddy out of his Aunt’s arms was something he’d never forget. 

Draco was strong. For that man he’d be willing to live or die as commanded. But he knew Draco felt the same about him. It was scary giving and taking that much of someone but it was just the bond they’d created between them and both of them were damaged enough to need it. 

\------------ 

This wasn’t how he’d expected his shopping trip to go. 

Blaise pressed his forehead into the mattress, biting his lip almost to the point of blood as he tried to calmly breathe out. He could feel George’s shaky hands working behind him. Merlin, he had no clue what he was doing did he? He felt one fingertip suddenly, gingerly pressing in. He bit down harder to resist any reaction, not enough lube … if any the idiot, and diving straight in, could have used some warning, and his fingernail scratched on the way through, fuck they’d have to talk about that. But, not now. Any discouragement now and he’d probably never get the chance again. 

To be fair it wasn’t like he’d expected the chance today, but when he saw something he wanted he was often fairly good at getting it. A suggestive smile here, a lingering hand there, and suddenly the shop below was closed and he was naked on the man-he’d-dreamed-of-since-third-year's bed. He’d thought this would feel good. Luckily for the inexperienced man behind him he got off a fair bit on just knowing he had the power to get him into bed that easily. Unluckily for him, he knew what good sex actually felt like and – he bit into the pillow as he felt George’s dick press against his entrance – this wasn’t it. 

To be fair it wasn’t too painful, enough lube this time, and he had stretched him okay, he just hadn’t quite been up to begging for it, which is where he preferred to be before he let men enter, it helped distract from the discomfort. And Merlin was there a lot of discomfort. 

His slow jerking to get all the way in was stilted and rushed. He didn’t pause to let him adjust. He had the wrong angle. Most disappointing reality/fantasy experience Blaise had ever had. If he had to sum it up it would have been boring, awkward and in all honesty a waste of time. Disturbingly he wasn’t sure he was the only one who felt that way. Behind him he could hear George’s laboured breathing, but there were no other sounds of interest and – Salazar no – was he actually softening?! Blaise had heard of just not having the right chemistry for sex before, but he was bloody gorgeous, he could make chemistry with anyone! 

Behind him George pulled out, his cock falling limp against his thigh. ‘Fuck, shit, damn. I’m sorry.’ 

Blaise sat up, well that was painful, uninspiring and anticlimactic ... but he resisted sighing. He gently put his hand on George’s shoulder, ready for the obligatory comfort. ‘Look-’ 

‘No, just go.’ 

‘George-’ The ginger leapt off the bed. 

‘No, just fuck off! I don’t need you here! I don’t want you here!’ He screamed, his voice bordering on manic and eyes refusing to focus on any one spot, especially not on the gorgeous disappointed man in front of him. He turned around, focusing on a crack in the wall while he listened to the sounds of clothes being picked up off the floor, his zip being done up, his belt buckle dragging back into place. 

He waited until there was silence behind him and let his shoulders drop, and tremble. Even his family had given up on dealing with him once he got into a mood, happy at this point to let him find comfort in a bottle and check on him the next day hoping he was still okay, at least he thought that was probably still the outcome they preferred. 

‘Fuck, I’m so sorry Fred …' 

He jumped, heart tap dancing against his ribs when he heard a light, thoughtful hum behind him. ‘I did always wonder about the two of you.’ 

George spun, eyes wide as he took in the half naked man calmly sitting on the edge of his bed, long legs crossed at the knee as he stared, carefully considering him. ‘So, were the rumours true, I mean incestuous and pure blood basically go hand in hand, but brothers?’ 

That shocked George into a bark of laughter. ‘What? Fuck, no.’ 

‘Then?’ He softened his gaze, Blaise’s signature look of vague amusement flickered across his expression, but it wasn’t directed at him, ‘why are you sorry?’ 

He sighed and dropped onto the bed beside him. Fine, he’d stuck around, he supposed he deserved it. Besides it wasn’t like it was more embarrassing than going limp in the middle of failing screwing your- guy you like? 

‘It’s- It feels wrong. Wrong to be happy, without him here. You know, when he can’t ...’ 

Shit, Blaise did sigh this time, he did like them damaged, didn’t he? 

‘You two were pretty similar right?’ 

‘We weren’t the same fucking person.’ 

‘I said similar. So, roles reversed, how would you feel about him giving up on living his life because you couldn’t anymore? I would have thought it was more of a “live for the both of you” type situation. You both enjoyed the fun things in life, it seems like you’ve completely lost that …' 

George glared at him, what the hell did this idiot Slytherin know anyway? He spouted off every curse he could think of in denial, glaring in front of him, gripping his trembling hands together as Blaise simply pulled the blanket from the bed, tucking it around George’s shoulders and gently rested his hand against his back. 

For a while neither of them said anything, neither of them moved. Then Blaise shifted, as though he was going to stand. 

George leaned against his side, shutting his eyes as he still expected him to rise. Blaise adjusted his arm to rest over his shoulders giving it a gentle squeeze and let him cry against him without a word. The war still left marks for the best of them and George had better reason than most not to let go. He wasn’t sure he should be the person here with him, the person comforting him, but he was the person there so he was happy to take the role if he could. 

It was dark by the time George finally sat up, feeling hollow, but still warm with the man wrapped around him. ‘Well … this was a terrible first attempt for us, hey?’ 

Blaise nodded slowly. ‘Without a doubt, the worst I’ve had. Sorry.’ 

His voice was soft and bland, but so honest George found himself laughing again, a little more real than he’d heard in a while. 

‘Would you be … willing to try again?’ He felt strange, but the feeling of Blaise against him was the only thing that was stabilising him right now and he wanted to be closer. 

Blaise smiled, and tilted his head up to kiss him, taking the chance to subtly rub a thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears. ‘Sure, if you want.’ Again, so blasé, as though he didn’t really care either way, but his eyes gave away a spark of mirth and interest. 

George turned to press him back into the bed, slotting himself between Blaise’s legs as he pushed forward for a kiss. Blaise raised a hand, pressing it gently against his chest and pushed him back. 

‘Nope, sorry love, you lost your shot on that one for today.’ He rolled them over, spreading George’s legs and showed him how you actually stretch someone right. 

He leaned over him, pressing his lips gently against the older man’s as he reached for the lube on the bedside table, making sure he had enough on his fingers before they reached down. He pressed against his entrance, running his fingers gently across it, teasing, until he got the right gasps from the man below him. He swallowed the moan as he pushed one finger smoothly inside him, shifting to let him thrust up against his hip for friction before pressing himself back down on the intruding digit. 

He pulled back to admire the way the red flush had spread to the ginger’s shoulders and didn’t seem to be stopping. He smirked down at him, nipping at his bottom lip then the line of his jaw and slowly made his way down his neck leaving soft marks on his trail. 

It wasn’t long before he had George writhing back against three fingers pushed inside him. Begging for more, deeper, harder, ‘Merlin give me anything!’ Blaise kissed him indulgently. There was the sexual chemistry he’d expected and it felt so fucking good. He wanted- no, he needed to give him more, to get closer, barely even controlling himself as he pressed into the man beneath him. 

He held himself still, panting against the freckles of his neck as he waited for George to shift. It didn’t take long. He started shifting softly with slow, languid thrusts into the man as he angled to find the spot that made him. 

‘Holy- Fucking- Blaise!’ Yes, that was it. 

He felt fingers clawing down his back and couldn’t resist speeding up, pounding into him. Each movement felt like too much but not nearly enough. He forced their lips together in a messy kiss, tongue pressed in to taste him, for any more connection he could get. His hand slipped up his thigh, fingers digging in as he pulled up to rest on his waist as the thrust deeper into him. He was so close, but he refused to come first, he had to make sure George was satisfied. His hand slipped between them, long fingers gripping confidently around his length as he began to stroke, trying to keep it in time with his thrusts as much as he could manage. 

The man groaned, arching off the bed and crying out as he came. That was all it took and Blaise was lost. With that the worst fumbled sexual experience of his life somehow became the best. He knew there was a reason he’d dreamed about this man back in school. 

He collapsed down in the bed beside him, willing his breathing to slow, his heart to please shut up so he could hear something over the top of it. He glanced at George who seemed in a similar state of disarray. 

‘Alright?’ He managed eventually. 

George laughed beside him, rolling over to wrap his arms and legs around him. ‘Yeah, alright.’ The way he said it that sounded like the best compliment he could give. ‘Stay?’ he asked softly. 

For a moment Blaise wished he could, but it was Wednesday, a quick glance at his phone, almost 2.30. There had only been once when he’d missed this catch up and – no way in hell he was doing that again. He knew it would be different now and Draco would understand, but it wasn’t something he was willing to test. 

Blaise chuckled softly as he untangled himself from the freckled limbs. ‘Sorry George, I’m not your boyfriend.’ 

‘No, you’re my … what exactly?’ 

‘Passing negative acquaintances who happened to fall into bed together?’ Blaise suggested. 

It wasn’t like he could argue it, but that really didn’t sit right, at the same time he didn’t actually want a boyfriend. He wouldn’t drag someone else into the mess he’d made of himself and he had no interest in any kind of connection with a Slytherin – right? 

‘Oh, I need something from the shop. Want to come down and actually sell it to me like the proper proprietor you are or should I just snag it on my way out?’ 

George laughed, arranging himself in the sheets to watch as the muscled, dark-skinned man slowly pulled on his layers of clothing. Honestly, it should be a sin to take that away from him and with every layer. It was like what they’d just done erased with every bit of cloth as he put himself back together perfectly. When Blaise finally turned his sharp eyes back to him it really was like nothing had happened, he looked the same as when he’d walked into the store. He looked at George the same too. 

‘Ahh … what are you after? It’s probably fine to take it …' 

As a thanks? A payment for services? Merlin, this wasn’t a pity shag was it? He wasn’t sure he could cope with that. He frowned slightly, he knew he was being ridiculous, he wasn’t that good at talking about his feelings but after what Blaise had sat through earlier, he sure as hell could at least ask for what he wanted here. The more he stared at the gorgeous man in front of him the more certain he was of what he wanted. 

But Blaise got in first. 

‘Draco just wanted to grab-’ 

He didn’t hold back the growl at the name. Of course, how could he have forgotten what had brought this man into his life in the first place. The pale-haired git that he had accompanied into his shop the other day. 

‘You can’t take a fucking thing for him.’ 

Blaise froze, icy gaze turning on the man in bed, fingers barely resisting reaching for his wand. His mother’s voice rang in his ears, it’s poor form to hex a man you’d just fucked, especially while he was still naked. 

‘Excuse me?’ He tried carefully, holding enough warning to George in those two words as he could, hoping to Salazar that the man had enough sense to step back from that quickly. 

‘Malfoy’s just … Malfoy.’ George cringed, basically spitting out the name. ‘He’s the reason-’ 

Blaise spun on him. ‘He’s not the fucking reason for anything! Of all people you should understand that. What wouldn’t you - hell what wouldn’t any fucking Weasley - do for one of your family?! That’s all he ever bloody did, he kept his family alive. He just happened to be born into a shit one that dragged him onto the wrong side to try to do that. 

‘Don’t you dare say anything like that about him! He’s stronger than anyone knows and he’s the bloody best of us Slytherin. Anything you ever say about him, you’re saying ten times worse about me and it’s just showing your own fucking ignorance and lack of empathy!’ His voice shook, he wasn’t sure when it had raised to screaming, but at some point, it had. 

To be honest that level of anger in his voice wasn’t even something he recognised. Hell, that volume might not have been one he’d ever used. But, it was for Draco, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. 

‘You love him.’ Came the hesitant response from the naked ginger still in bed. Just moments ago Blaise could have been curled up with him, maybe could have turned this into something more with the promise of coming back for dinner or- no, that wasn’t an option now. 

‘He’s my family.’ 

‘No, you’re in love with him.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Honestly, love seemed like such a simple word for what was between them and he knew there would never be that kind of relationship between them, he wasn’t sure he ever had. Especially with the whole Veela and Mate thing, he knew there would never be a place for him in Draco’s life like that and he had no issue with it. 

‘Perhaps I was once, now I just admire the strength of my brother. Is that okay by you?’ He dropped to his normal reserved tone. 

He watched as the man in the bed stared solidly at the wall away from him, face hard in an expression that refused to give away whatever he felt. 

George refused to answer, so he shook his head and left. That will do then. He snatched the toy Draco had been looking at for Teddy on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaise: Okay, when did this turn into a game of Gryffindors rejecting Slytherins?   
> Draco: Right? Sucks. Come, suffer with me.   
> Blaise: No deal, you have Veela levels of suffering, I just have a bruise ego. Don’t dump me into the ‘soulmate pain’ bucket just yet.   
> Draco: Not yet hey? So, you’ll let me know when you fall into it?   
> Blaise: I loathe you.   
> Draco: Love you too.


	8. Wish You Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Okay, I’m taking a crack at this again. Let’s see if I can win over the audience, or at least get away without another punch?  
> Draco: You know, I don’t think talking more really works in your defence.  
> Harry: Okay, in my defence, people aren’t generally expected to throw away a committed 6-year relationship and life after a few snogs and a blow job from some random guy.  
> Draco: No. People don’t normally get snogs and blow jobs from some random guy when they’re in a COMMITTED 6-year relationship. Do you really want to use that as your defence, Potter?  
> Harry: Shit. No. Sorry.

Harry was the Saviour of the Wizarding World. He wasn’t conceited, he wasn’t boasting, it was just what he was. In title at least and in how people saw him. He knew he was just one of the cogs really, he’d saved some people, he’d lost some, it had just been a war and he’d had a part to play. Saviour was the title that came with that part, regardless of how he felt about it. There was one way he undoubtedly failed at that though. One person who he had failed above all else. 

He didn’t mean the lives lost, they hurt but he had taken the time to clear himself of direct guilt for that. He had, however, completely failed as a saviour to Malfoy. This wasn’t the weight of the world shit either, he’d been face to face with it and failed as far as he could see. 

He had a lot of options for that failure at this point, and kept it close to his chest that it was one of his most painful regrets of the war. Maybe it started when he refused his hand, but that seemed like nothing compared to every moment that came after it. Some Malfoy deserved and some he didn’t. 

When he’d seen him crying in the bathroom, what would have happened if he was mature enough not to curse him, what if he had helped instead of hurt then instead of almost killing? When he’d watched him kill Dumbledore, what if he’d managed to move, if he’d fought to still give him redemption then? When he’d come face to face with him and Malfoy had saved his own life, he could see how much pain the boy was in then, he’d seen through Voldemort’s eyes how much he’d suffered, what if he’d taken him away then instead of leaving him defenceless without even a wand to face the punishment for being his own damn protector? 

In the final battle at Hogwarts he’d saved him from the fire, sure, after Malfoy saved him again. Even then he ruined it straight away, leaving the injured boy unconscious in a hallway in the middle of a battle for Merlin’s sake. He could have been killed by either side, could have been killed by a stray curse or a falling brick with nothing to look after him. Then the trials gave him another chance, he’d stood up, he’d vouched for him, practically begging them to forgive the boy. It had helped, but not enough, he wasn’t a Saviour, he had barely gotten him a stay of execution, four years in Azkaban would have been enough to break of kill a stronger man than the weak, war ravaged boy he watched get walked out of that room and he thought that would be the last he’d see of him. 

The failure hurt, especially when he’d tried then. At least he thought that was the cause of the pain. But he convinced himself to try to let it go with the rest of the guilt from the war and did his best to build a life with Ginny. 

He had gone to visit him in Azkaban once. He wouldn’t tell anyone, ever, but he had forced himself there, faced the Dementors, then fled at the sight of his schoolyard rival. He’d come to tell him he’d cover the costs of his parents’ funerals. Sick at the thought that he had actually gone to finally get a pat on the back for the effort he’d put in. It was pathetic, he could own that. The second he’d seen the shell, the crumpled, broken boy trapped behind the bars, he knew that his own pride had no place here and there wasn’t anything he had to offer him. 

So, he fled. 

That should have been it. That should have been the end to what he saw as the biggest, ongoing failure to his life. Then Malfoy joined the bloody Aurors. 

Why? Why on earth would he even be interested in this? He was a Death Eater for Godric’s sake! Not that Harry still held that against him, not really, after the war, but he was putting himself in the worst situation possible and once again, Harry didn’t know how to protect him. 

\------------ 

He’d thought he was done. That his life was on the right tracks and he could just sit back and let it coast from there. 

God it was a relief. 

He was with Ginny and she was great. They could make a life together and he knew everything he’d get there. He’d have a family and he’d be happy. Ever since defeating Voldemort he knew that would be his life. 

But, now Malfoy was back in it. 

He’d been in it for less than a week, and he had managed to shatter everything in that time. A kiss in the shower room. A kiss and a blow job for Merlin’s sake in the hospital. Now his stupid kiss in the task room was added to the list, and that one was all on him. He couldn’t even explain that, not really, there was just no way he could resist ... 

Less than a week. 

He hadn’t expected to see Ginny for a while, but since she was called back when he was at the hospital that guilt wasn’t something he got to ignore. She had been there, she had been pissed at him for being called back for no reason, and that brought on another fight. 

‘No reason? I was almost bloody dying, but I’m sorry if that got in the way of your workout!’ 

She scoffed. ‘So, you’re fine to risk your life for your job but because mine’s so frivolous I shouldn’t even be dedicated to it? I’m sorry I’m not doing anything important with my life. Just playing a silly sport.’ 

‘Gin, that’s not what I said.’ he sighed, letting the fight slip from him. It was so much easier to not. It seemed like whenever he tried it got misinterpreted anyway. So why try? 

Her shoulders dropped, but her lips curled into a bit of a smile. ‘Harry, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re fine. I’ve got a few days off now and it’ll be great to get some actual time with you. You should take the time off work too. You were injured after all. It’ll be great, we can do all the things we used to do. It’s been too long since it was just us.’ 

The conversation got away from him quickly, and he let it. She led him upstairs, and it was such a familiar rhythm so he let her. Then she kissed him- he pulled back. It didn’t feel right. She didn’t seem to notice, beginning to strip herself and him. 

Malfoy was warmer, not physically, but his touch made him feel warmer. He’d never kissed a bloke before. Maybe that’s just how all of them felt? But if he preferred it, wasn’t that something he should look into? Malfoy’s touch had been somehow more demanding, more needing than Ginny’s, but it had been gentler, more precise too. He craved those long delicate fingers where he now had probing familiar ones. 

That was too much, he felt sick making the comparisons. Sick about thinking of something else when what he had here was meant to be all he was after. Just sick to look around at the life he’d carved so perfectly that there didn’t seem like there was a way out. And sick at himself for looking for one anyway. 

He pushed her back gently before they toppled to the bed. ‘Ginny, wait.’ 

Her eyes scanned carefully over his face, thinking for a moment before she decided where his head was at, she decided his feeling for him, and like always was more than happy to take control of the situation. She pushed him back to sit on the bed, moving to straddle him. 

‘Just relax Harry, I’m here. I’ll take care of you.’ 

That’s what he wanted. Right? That’s what he felt like he wanted, in part, but not such careful care. Not the way he got it from her. This still felt so wrong. He placed his hands firmly on her hips, pushing her back and further away from him. 

‘Wait Gin, we have to talk.’ 

Another calculating scan. ‘No, Harry, we don’t not now please. I don’t have the energy for it. Just fuck me and it’ll feel better. Remember what it’s like when I’m here.’ 

‘Gin-’ 

He tried again. They’d had the conversation before, it wasn’t like Malfoy was the first guy to make him question things. Hell, even a bad case had him doubting whether it was Ginny that he wanted to come home to when everything felt so disconnected. He never got very far before he was corrected though. This time, with the lingering taste of Malfoy as a memory on his lips that Ginny was trying to destroy, he pushed harder than he’d let himself before. 

‘Gin, please. You’re not here. Not enough, and when you are-’ I don’t want you here. Shit. He can’t actually say that can he. 

‘When I am-?’ She asked carefully, finally moving further away from him. ‘If you’re going to try to end this again Harry you could have at least had the decency not to drag me away from practice to do it. We can do this at any time.’ She huffed. Like it was such an obvious answer that it wasn’t that serious, that it wouldn’t be real. 

He just needed to voice his concerns again. She just needed to be patient and talk him out of each one of them. Not until he believed her, he never really did. Just until it was easier to agree then push, until he remembered that she was happy here and that was worth whatever discomfort he had. This was his family, what was between them had been grown and forged through the war and through the bleak times that followed. He didn’t even recognise what it was anymore, but it still held the promise of everything he’d though he was after, even if it didn’t resemble what he’d ever have considered a relationship in the past. 

He stared into her eyes and he could see that she was as tired with this as he was. He didn’t want to have that conversation, not now, not ever, he just didn’t want this anymore either. She didn’t want the conversation. She just wanted to fall into bed the way they always did. The way that felt like the echo of a promise of what they had planned. He wasn’t sure how much of it she felt anymore, if it was as little as he did then surely, she wouldn’t want this either. But she did want it, so he gave in. Without the conversation, at least for tonight. 

It wouldn’t change anything ever, it never did. So why not give her another night and maybe, maybe he’d have the strength tomorrow. And maybe, for tonight he could pretend he wasn’t imagining someone else’s hands. That he didn’t feel so sick that he’d let himself get swept away in what he owed her again. 

The next day he skipped breakfast and went into work without waking her. She looked happy, peaceful in bed. He felt like the scalding shower wasn’t enough. There was no way he’d take a day off, even when she’d asked they both knew it was nothing but talk. They wouldn’t really want to spend that much time together anyway so there was no real harm done. 

Besides, he like work. It wasn’t like he was so tragic that he’d let his whole life sink away into the mess that his relationship had. His friends were still around and they got together often enough that the bonds still felt tight. Not to mention Hermione and Ron were still a day by day staple, another thing that might change if he messed things up with Ginny. He wasn’t sure though but, was it really worth the risk? If it just ended up with him completely alone at the end of the day instead of knowing he had someone if he needed them, if he ever wanted them, was it worth it to keep pushing to hurt her? 

He was so in his own head that he barely registered the trip into work. He knew he was running late but didn’t bother speeding up as he wound his way through the Ministry. It was just physical training anyway, not like they’d have to wait for him. They’d have to wait until tomorrow now to get completely through the case file since Malfoy had wasted a day … helping Hermione … yeah, he wasn’t going to think about that one right now either. Shit Malfoy was just fantastic at finding the perfect places of his life to unstick, without meaning to, with barely any attempt on his side. 

Then there was the ultimate detail he was avoiding because … well he didn’t even know where to think of starting with it. Malfoy could heal through kisses and blow jobs. The fuck?! What exactly do you start searching for that? There was blood magic, was there sex magic? Was it a healing art? Maybe that’s why he was at the hospital, he’s undergoing secret sex healing training … 

Okay, probably not. So, what the fuck does he start looking into? It’s definitely not something he’s going to try to explain to Hermione, even if he lied his ass off through the explanation she’d know, she always knows somehow. No matter how unconsious he was the first time and drugged and pained the second time, he couldn’t and wouldn’t be the kind of guy to justify cheating. Not to himself or a friend, he just had to not expand on the issue until he’d worked something out. 

So, other option, walk up to a healer and ask if really amazing blow jobs can heal, broken bones. Ignoring how embarrassing that would be, the weird looks he’d get, and the probability that he’d still have to explain the circumstances, he also had a terrible feeling that it could be seen as a terrible pick up line. Nope, not happening. 

He’d just have to avoid Malfoy for a while. Definitely stop thinking and running into any situation that could be seen in any way shape or form as sexual. Don’t think about it. He could do that. He was always good at just letting things go, especially when it came to that particular blonde. Shit. 

He had finished getting changed as he completed the mental scolding and walked into the training room to see- fucking Malfoy. Grey pants that clung to his long, muscled legs, his weight shifted just low enough to have them flexing, and God that was a good angle for his ass too. He wore a skin-tight, black top which came down to his wrists but moved so perfectly with him it may as well have been painted on. Low cut enough to show a sinful mouthful of his creamy white collar and chest. The shirt has two slashes through it already, one on his left upper arm and one ripping the collar down lower. The blood from each of those attacks can’t be seen against the cloth of his shirt, but it’s screaming for attention against his white skin. 

Harry’s eyes kept slowly trailing up, admiring his movements and form as much as everything else as he absently processed the Malfoy was in the middle of an intense fight. His shoulder length hair was tied into a messy bun on the top of his head, the tendrils that had escaped clung to his neck and the side of his face with a slight glean of sweat. The movement of his shoulders and heave of his chest betrayed how exhausted he was, but he still moved with perfect precision and grace, not a twitch wasted. It looked deadly. Merlin, he’d never wanted anything more. 

Then the fight turned enough that Harry saw the glint in his eyes. His lips were drawn tight, not a single movement unless he spoke, never giving away his next move until it was done. But his eyes were sharp, the grey had a light dancing through it which held the dangerous promise of a fight and seemed to be laughing all on their own. 

It was a long moment before Harry could move, before he took in enough of the scene before him, it was a good fight and he wasn’t the only one in the room who was watching. In fact, no on in the room seemed to be able to look away. He made his way to Ron’s side, doing all he could to make sure his voice would be steady before he tried to talk. 

‘Malfoy against Tyson hey?’ 

Ron nodded, not taking his eyes away from the fight for long enough to look at him, which was probably for the best. ‘They’ve been going for about half an hour. I hate to admit it but they’re both pretty damn good.’ 

Malfoy threw three jinxes in a row, though he swears he only heard two, wordless magic? He only knew it was three from the flicks of his wand. Tyson seemed to read it too, didn’t seem that surprised by it either, but after the year of training together they probably knew each other pretty well. Not as well as Harry knew him of course- 

No, that doesn’t matter. Tyson blocks all of them, the third one enough to wipe away his shield regardless of how much strength he’d put behind it and suddenly Malfoy is just there. Close enough to hit him. And got he just does. Harry winces in slight sympathy, he knows how much that punch hurts and still has the bruise to prove it, but that’s almost nothing compared to the crack of bone that rings through the room and the blood suddenly streaming down Tyson’s face. 

In the second Malfoy takes to pull his arm back, Tyson lunges forward, barrelling his shoulder straight into Malfoy’s stomach. It doesn’t matter how good he is, there’s no time of room to get away from that kind of hit and they both go down to the floor. Malfoy’s lean frame trapped under the more muscled man. Harry almost lunged forward, nearly stopped their fight there. Somehow, through the end of the war seeing Malfoy so broken, through his trials, knowing he’d spent years in prison, he had come to see Malfoy as someone who needed protection. 

He was not. Watching the rest of the fight had proved that, so Harry manages to hold himself back even when he recognises the split-second flicker of panic on Malfoy’s face. Then Tyson leans forward and pressed his lips against Malfoy’s and Harry’s head snaps away. He couldn’t watch that. He just couldn’t. 

Harry managed to refrain from snapping at them in that moment. Managed to hold himself back, trembling and threw himself into the duels and workouts of the day. Somehow it was resolved, hell maybe that was the way they always ended their fights. From the little he’d seen between Malfoy and the rest of his class he thought they hated each other. Maybe that’s just what Malfoy did though, kissed guys he hated. Why not? He ignored the comments about his magic being particularly strong and vicious because, really, there was no reason for it to be. 

When he was headed home, however, he stepping in to check on their room, to grab a file to use a defence against Ginny even if there was nothing in it he didn’t know off by heart anyway. When he saw Draco there, he lashed out before he thought about it. Spitting out the words that had been brewing in his mind all day. 

‘Tyson? Really?!’ 

Harry growled, he couldn’t resist, a deep animalistic sound that he didn’t know he could actually make fuelled by a warm jealousy he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt before. 

‘He insults you every chance he gets. His friends hate you. You’re nothing more than a bloody Death Eater to him! He doesn’t even want you here! You’ve broken his damn nose and he’s made you bleed, that’s not healthy. I can’t believe you let him kiss you!’ 

Malfoy blinked at him a few times, as if too stumped to respond, then eventually- 

‘Are you describing Tyson and I, or you and I?’ 

He froze, thinking back over the words. ‘I don’t- I mean- We aren’t. Shit Malfoy, I just …' 

Malfoy chuckled, though from what Harry knew of his laughs it didn’t really sound like there was any humour in it. ‘If you really have a problem with it, I think the first place you’re meant to go to – you know, as our superior – is that we’re on a team and it’s inappropriate? Not that you don’t have claim to that one too mind, but I’m really not sure where you’re hoping to achieve with this.’ 

It sounded like an offhand comment, that he just didn’t know. It wasn’t quite phrased like a question and thank Merlin for that, because Harry really didn’t have an answer. At the same time, he wanted to answer … 

‘I don’t know Malfoy, just please. Not him.’ No one but me … Shit. 

‘Like fuck you get any say in it, Potter. You have no right to judge, so what the fuck are you doing here? Pretending you give a damn?’ 

His voice sounded hurt, and that cut deeper than Harry was expecting. Deeper than he’d like to admit. With the mess he had made of his personal life at the moment though Malfoy was right. He had no right and couldn’t give any kind of answer he wanted to. Even if he thought he could say it right now “Malfoy, I want you. Get me out of the shit I got myself into and I’m all yours.” He didn’t know if he actually wanted to hear that. If he actually wanted him or was just doing his duty healing – as fucked up as that was anyway. 

He didn’t know if Draco cared, so he couldn’t answer. 

\------------ 

Draco growled, his mind running over the same thing; say it, go on say it, just fucking say it! 

The allure in the fight had taken enough out of him. He hadn’t meant to – it just did it damn it! Then the kiss, he couldn’t- he didn’t want it- he couldn’t blame Tyson either though really. Even though he’d thrown him off the second he could. Touching anyone but Potter like that- he just couldn’t. He needed Potter here now. He needed that pain searing through him like he deserved, reminding him where he was, the connection between them. Remind him what was real and ground him in it so he couldn’t escape. 

Potter sighed, raising a limp shoulder ‘Just … see you tomorrow, yeah?’ and walked out of the room, knowing he wouldn’t actually get a response. 

Draco ran a self-assessment: 

His heart was pounding, but his blood didn’t sting. 

Harry was no longer in the room, his wings curled tight against his back, but without the familiar tremor. 

No, it hadn’t been a rejection. Without the pain though, he just felt empty. Like his chest was ready to collapse in on itself. He felt the familiar chill of loss, the blanket pressing down on his emotions that he’d come to associate with a Dementors presence. He knew there wasn’t one there. This was just the way he was now, without the thrill of contact, without the pain of rejection, all he did was crumble and it made him sick. 

The room was silent and all he could do was stare at the door. 

‘No, no, no.’ he fell to his knees, feeling the ache of the contact against the disgusting Ministry floor against his kneecaps. 

‘You have to give me something Potter…’ he whined. 

Draco tried to breathe through his panic, then gave up, screaming. 

It's not the Veela scream that he’s grown accustomed to. There are no wings and there’s no pain. It's the empty scream that he never let out in Azkaban. The mad scream of being gutted and left with vague, bland memories of what emotions used to feel like. 

It's the scream of a man very close to giving up because he can't remember that he has anything to lose. 

It's this feeling that comes closer to killing him than any rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Okay, but a lot of what I’ve done has just been confusion over the healing and allure crap.  
> Draco: Potter, DO NOT turn your mistake into a Veela thing.  
> Harry: To be fair, I think it’s the writer that turned this into a Veela thing.  
> *both glare at writer*  
> … Why do I do this to myself?


	9. Pause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SORRY! I intended for this to be a once or twice a week update but I was a bit stumped on this chapter AND back to full time work so … yeah … it still lives though! 
> 
> I’m not really happy with the emotions in this one so will try to make sure to cram plenty into the next update (I’ll try to do 2 next week as an apology, wish me luck on that!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: How? How the fuck did that make it worse. Shit Draco …  
> Draco *growl*: Careful Harry, this isn’t where we do this.  
> Harry *sigh*: Right … you’re right. Always have to be bloody right …  
> Draco: Harry!  
> Harry: What is it precious, I’m agreeing.  
> Draco *grumble*: Passive aggressive jerk.

There was a soft mattress under his knees, his wings spread out wide behind him and the fresh air that somehow wafted through the room was the most amazing feeling he’d ever had against the free feathers. It was the ultimate sensation he’d ever experienced. Every cell in his body was simultaneously alert and bussing and perfectly at peace. He never thought his life could feel so calm, until there was a movement behind him. 

He felt a breath across the tips of his wings, the warm air sending an uncontrolled shiver through them. Delicate fingertips rose and caressed the barest edges of them and he moaned, Merlin, eyes closed, head tilting back in the direction of whoever the hell it was behind him. His moan turned into a whimper as the touch was pulled away. He needed more. Sweet Salazar he was willing to beg if that’s what they needed to give him more of that amazing touch. Whoever was behind him- 

Hell, who was he kidding, there was only one person he could even respond to this way. Over his shoulder he heard a deep, satisfied, sigh. 

‘Draco …' Came Potter’s deep voice. Filled with so much … emotion … so much care and worship and something he couldn’t recognise. A voice he knew he’d never get to hear in the real world. 

‘Harry …' he groaned back, he had no control over it, he could feel himself speaking even though he hadn’t meant to, ‘Touch me. Please. I need you.’ He hated the words, words he’d refuse to speak if he had any control. 

‘Anything- Everything- Anything you want, precious.’ 

His hands ran further forward, skating across Draco’s bare shoulders. The touch, so firm, so certain but so gentle and caring against his pale flesh. Every time Harry – and it was Harry, his love, Harry – moved he’d shift with him, leaning into the touch or moving to give him more access. His body was pressed against his back, naked skin pressed flush against naked skin. He was on fire. His heart pounded, breath gasping, so SO much more than he ever thought he’d feel again. 

He was so alive, everywhere he was touched, he could feel the magic crackling like live electricity in the air just before a giant storm. And Merlin he wanted the storm! 

The room began to buzz. Not from them, but an annoying vibration. Wait, no, that was from outside. From the not here. 

The buzzing got louder and louder until he couldn’t hear Harry’s voice over it. Couldn’t hear his own heart beating over it. 

The world tilted, but he refused to let go of it. He wanted this, not to go back to nothing. He wouldn’t- couldn’t- not when he had this to compare with what it could and could never be- 

\------------ 

His phone was buzzing, he opened an eye and stared at with barely enough energy to bother with a glare. Back to this, the pathetic existence he actually had. 

He knew he should get up, shower, tea and toast? He vaguely registered that they should be important- are important. And yet- 

He flicked his alarm off and stared at the ceiling. The empty feeling wouldn’t fade. Well in his dreams it had, Merlin, in his dreams it had felt really, really good. But now, back in the world of the living. Just … empty. 

‘Fucking hell.’ he grumbled mildly. 

Just one thing at a time, first, blanket off. That's just a wave of his arm, fingers tighten around the edge and pull it back. That’s the first step. Do it Draco, just do it. 

He rolled over; eyes closed. Fuck that sounds like a lot of effort. 

He crushed his eyes closed tighter against the sunlight that filtered through the shitty rags he counted as curtains. His shift across his mattress meant he was now leaning on the spring he tried to avoid. If he stayed here much longer he’d probably have a bruise. Not that it mattered really, but if he was letting himself waste away to nothing in the comfort of his own bed the damn thing should at least have the decency to be comfortable. 

But, there was work, and at work there was Potter. He couldn’t quite decide if that should be put in the positive or negative column at the moment but it was definitely a persuasive point for sone of them. It was convincing enough that he did manage to move his arm, grab the sheet and hurl; the damn thing off his cold body. As soon as the freezing air hit him, he found himself actually tempted by the call of the warm shower. So, that got him out of bed, got him showered. Modesty got him dressed and then he got his ass to the Ministry, early. The files were tucked under his arm, he had studied it obsessively last night, not wanting to give them proof that he was a waste of space that shouldn’t be allowed on the team. 

And yes, the fact that he could go from willing to waste away in bed one second to the righteous indignation that he should be the best Auror and was determined to prove it wasn’t lost on him. He’d given up on following track where his emotions, or lack thereof, led his logic. 

He walked into the room, pointedly ignoring Tyson who was doing a nice combination of ignoring and blushing at him. Draco glared down at his desk as he pulled out the pages and his notes. Yes, he was a fucking Veela and it wasn’t exclusively Tyson’s fault that he suddenly HAD to stick his tongue in his mouth in the middle of training, but damnit that didn’t make it easy to sit in the same room with him. Not to mention the two options it really left his with was to let everyone he worked with think he was potentially dating someone on his team who had honestly made his year of training hell, or say that’s just how he ended all sparring matched now? 

Yeah, he could see that as a decent option. Bowing was so last season. He smirked as Blaise walked in the room. He could definitely get Blaise on his side for this. Maybe convince everyone it was just a Slytherin thing? 

Blaise dropped elegantly into the chair beside him, shifting it and his desk across to lazily lean against Draco’s arm and shoot Tyson a glare. Small possessive moments to try to dissuade the people who had regular contact with him had proven useful over the years. The fact that Blaise does it so instinctually now to protect him means the world to him. 

‘Clinging bastard this morning, aren’t you?’ Draco drawls, the soft smile on his face betraying him. 

Blaise covered a yawn with the back of his hand, reclining further so somehow between his ass carefully perched on the edge of his regular-issue chair and Draco as a leaning post, he looked like he had the makings of quite a comfortable bed. 

‘I heard someone else got his hands on you. All mine,’ he purred happily, nuzzling into his side just as Potter and Weasley walked into the room. 

They began to set up, pulling out papers and the board, Blaise righting himself, marginally, to look like he was actually ready to work. All of this gave Draco enough time to try to assess why the hell Potter was glaring at him. Was it still about Tyson? He was at the other side of the room doing an admirable job of pretending he didn’t exist. He hadn’t done anything else since Potter had kissed him and left him without pain, without the precious rejection that let him feel. And he would get that today. Potter wasn’t leaving the damn building until he did, but if he could coordinate it so it happened at the end of the day and he wasn’t the idiot running out of their bloody meetings again that would be better. 

First though, there was the actual mission. He turned to murmur to Blaise. 

‘Did you read the files?’ 

Blaise nodded, barely noticeable but Draco felt the movement against his side. 

‘Thoughts?’ 

‘Black magic, let’s throw the snakes into it.’ He huffed softly. 

Draco stared back down at the pages, yeah, that summed up his thoughts too. The real question was whether they were actually being used to help identify it or if they were being set up to throw under the bus if something went wrong – hell, it might even be if something goes right. 

Potter cleared his throat, they might be good at having conversations that no one else can hear, but it’s not like people can’t tell they’re talking. It seemed like wonder boy didn’t like being cut out of anything. Poor thing … 

Draco lifted a sheet, purposefully pointing something out to his friend and whispering the conversation, covering trivialities that he knew didn’t have to be spoken but Merlin it was good to watch Potter seethe. 

‘We playing piss-off-Potter again, Draco?’ Blaise chuckled darkly in a response to whatever Draco had spouted. 

‘Well, it is my favourite game, and I feel in need of an easy victory.’ he laughed back before Potter thundered across the room and snatched the page out of his hands. 

‘If you both don’t mind-’ he growled, baring teeth like an untrained pup. 

Draco plucked the page out of his hand and smoothed it out over the table, his Veela preening with the attention as much as he tried not to show it, but he felt Blaise tensing at his side and knew Tyson’s eyes were back on him. Shit, had to calm down. 

‘Sorry sir, ready when you are.’ He tried for – okay, not quite respectful – a dutiful, reluctant, attentive tone? From the look on Potter’s face it came out with a healthy dose of sarcasm. 

‘Great, thank you so much Malfoy,’ well there was sarcasm, ‘let’s get started then.’ 

He walked over to the board where Weasley had started scribbling notes and tacking up pictures. 

‘We’ve been collecting artifacts-’ 

‘Ancient artifacts.’ Draco clarified. 

‘Yes, ancient artifacts,’ Potter added reluctantly, ‘with curses-’ 

‘Dark curses.’ 

‘Yes,’ Draco could hear his teeth grind, ‘with dark curses. Which seem to all be linked to old families-’ 

‘Pure-blood families.’ 

‘Merlin Malfoy, would you let me finish the goddamn sentence? Or would you like to run this?’ 

‘It might go smoother if I did ...’ he offered, quite generously in his opinion, but again it looked like he was won the other side of things than his precious Potter. 

‘Just shut it, would you? Honestly, not another word until I at least get through the summary.’ 

Draco rolled his eyes, but nodded, letting Blaise take over for him instead. 

‘Honestly Potter, Draco’s just making sure that we’re getting the pertinent adjectives in there. The ancient, dark and pure-blood of it all is why where here after all, let’s not try to sweep that under the rug quite so quickly.’ 

Draco smiled across at his friend. See, if he’d said that it would have come across in, well, probably a screaming match, accusing them of their stupid biases and easily get both of them thrown out of the room. The way Blaise says it, it honestly comes across as a specialisation, and isn’t the group lucky that Blackwell spotted it and assigned them to help with the case? 

Potter glared, but his response came out even enough. 

‘Yes, I’m sure your pasts will be useful. But it’s still all bloody useless if we can’t get through the debrief, so both of you – shut it.’ 

He went on to cover everything that was already in the file. Pure-blood heirlooms being spread to unsavoury characters who didn’t know how to use them, black curses seeping out across quite high groups of people and they didn’t know, what they were from, how to contain them or spot them, where they would be, and, most importantly, where the hell they were coming from. 

Draco was flicking through the pictures, most of them were actually vaguely familiar to him, so yeah, he was probably crucial here as long as he could make sure people listened to him. He’d been through the house of most of the pure-bloods in England at one time or another, and even if he hadn’t seen the artifact in question, he could recognise the feel of it like he could recognise anything at Malfoy Manor. The real question was if that would even be useful if they didn’t know where to look. As Weasley started on the map on the board there didn’t seem to be much of a pattern for where they were turning up and it was hardly helpful to point to a vase after it had killed someone to tell people not to touch it. With the death count it had already racked up this was bad. Sd 

The Slytherin in him added that it also meant this was big, and big would be a huge benefit if he did well. There was a difference between willing to use a situation and being glad that the situation existed in the first place. Being glad he could prove himself and got the chance to spend some time with Potter, that was good, that was right, that was Draco progressing his life after not having the chance to do anything for years. Unfortunately, Potter just saw the death tally and probably hated the whole damn thing. He was so negative like that. 

Eventually just about everything in the files was on the board, with notes, lines and anything else they could possibly think to add added. The day somehow ended and people filtered out, before he knew it Draco had lost his chance to catch Potter. That was fine, really, he could cope. He’d have to. 

The dream that night was longer, the touches were more intense. It was all he could feel when he woke up, but it faded too fast, leaving him with the dull filtered sunlight in the freezing cold room in a bed he didn’t want to move from. 

He managed the day. Up. Work. Gaze at Potter. Files. Work out/watch Potter work out. He was contributing, he knew he was, but things were starting to fade. Potter was there but he didn’t look at him, didn’t speak to him, and the world around the edges of that reality was beginning to fade. 

It was a few days later of the same task, trying to maintain the same pattern, just remembering to put one foot in front of the other when his feet didn’t seem to move quite right. Hermione had come to pick up the other two thirds of the golden trio for lunch, so lunch break it was. Potter bolted out of the room first, with as much distance between them as possible. It turned out, when Potter wanted to bloody contact, he managed it amazingly well. 

Draco stood, took a few steps and crumbled, his legs trembling beneath him suddenly unable to hold up his pathetic weight. Hermione was somehow the first one to his side, eyes filled with concern. As unexpected as the emotion was, his thoughts were still just stuck on impressed that she could move so fast as big as she was. She honestly looked like she’d be ready to push the spawn out yesterday, but he knew size wasn’t really an indication. Blaise’s mother had looked like she was ready for the last three months of hers- no, that wasn’t something they thought about. 

‘I’m fine.’ He waved her off, hoping to keep the scene to a minimum as Blaise reached his side and Ron tried to tug Hermione away, murmuring something about attention seeking behaviour or an assassination attempt. Who cared? Why was the world tilting again? 

This felt familiar. Shit, he hadn’t thought he’d sink this far this fast. 

Draco had known it would be harder when he actually had something else to occupy his mind. It had been three days into the solid team work and now it was only Blaise’s strong fingers holding slightly too tight on his arm that steadied him. 

‘Alright old man?’ He asked lightly, there was enough about the tightness of his casual smile, the slight line between his eyebrows that gave his concern away. 

‘Yeah, just missed a meal I think.’ He answered eventually, he’d sworn not to lie to Blaise and Pansy about that. 

Blaise laughed loudly, booming around the room in a way that anyone who knew him would call fake in an instant. His friend being that calm about it was enough to get the rest of the team to leave. One sharp look from Granger before she shut the door that told him they’d be talking about this later, but at least they left. 

Strong arms sat him gently in his chair, tossing him a water bottle and a protein bar before they started rummaging through his bag. Draco sighed, shaky hands opening the bar as he waiting for Blaise to find the damning evidence. He knew this was coming the second he’d started to struggle, but he’d thought he might have longer. Either pull himself together on his own by the weekend or adjust to this new kind of hell and get back into the schedule he knew he had to follow. He hadn’t though, and now it was going to fall on his friends again. Fuck he hated being so reliant on them, but they’d kill him if he refused and after everything he’d already put them through, he couldn’t refuse anything. 

Blaise pulled out his diary glaring as he flicked through the three days of blank pages. 

‘Fuck, Draco. Nothing?’ 

He sighed, taking his time to wash down the dry bar with a gulp of water before responding. 

‘Not nothing nothing. You’ve still been bringing me muffins some mornings, and I usually have a biscuit with morning and evening tea.’ He defended, pathetic ever to his own ears. Towards the end of the excuse his voice started to waver, he tried to choke it down with another swallow of water but, shit, his eyes were starting to sting and no. He refused to fucking cry in the break room over a few missed meals. 

Blaise had his arms wrapped around him in an instant. 

‘Forgot, punishing or just couldn’t?’ He asked carefully. Draco shrugged, was there even an answer for that? 

‘I just … didn’t.’ It came out as almost a whimper. 

‘Hey, it’s okay old man, you’re just in the fog.’ 

“Fog” was a nice word for the Veela working on killing him, it helped to have a word though, something his friends knew, in a way at least, and something to put against it instead of just “this is me now”. Draco nodded, leaning into Blaise’s chest, breathing him in deeply and taking what little comfort he could in that. He waited for his friend to take over, to tell him what to do now. Far enough into the fog to almost collapse was too far to work it out for himself. 

‘Okay,’ Blaise’s voice was deep, calm, even, ‘Here’s what we do. Having Potter here with no contact is the worst for you, we knew that. You need to get him tonight; we’ll say two days without is your limit for the moment. You used to be able to do longer in school, maybe it was the time away from him or maybe because you’ve gotten more from him now-’ that’s an interesting way to say given him a blow job ‘but whatever it is, two days is your limit for talking, touching, rejection, whatever you need, just one of them.’ 

He pulled back slightly, watching Draco’s face, waiting for a nod before continuing. 

‘We’ll add it to your diary. And you’re moving in with me for a while. It was stupid to think you could handle this on your own, we should have made that call the second things progressed. At least that means we can get you back on track for meals if you’re sitting down and eating every fucking one with me.’ Again, he waited for the nod. 

‘Right, settled. I hope you understand how much I’m giving up for this. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to pull anyone decent when I have a bloody Veela to compete with in my own house?’ He sighed dramatically and Draco smiled, relieved that all Slytherins were taught to phase out of heavy conversations quite so suddenly. 

‘And yet … you seem to thrive rather than struggle with that challenge. Yes yes, all hail lord Blaise who can get laid even when there’s an obviously superior option next door.’ 

Blaise grinned, wrapping an arm tight around his waist as he led him out on steadier legs for lunch. They'd skipped this in favour of work the last few days, but obviously that wasn’t going to be a thing they did anymore. 

The rest of the day went quickly and somehow, at the end of it, Blaise managed to get the other two out of the room leaving him alone with Potter. The second the oblivious idiot realised they were alone in the room he tried to flee. Draco almost let him too, but no. He knew what he needed right now, and he wanted his feelings back damnit. 

‘Potter, wait,’ he called, relieved when his voice didn’t shake as much as he expected. 

The man walked cautiously back into the room, towards him, looking almost as hesitant as Draco felt. He couldn’t blame him, each of their private interactions seemed to be takings very unexpected turns. This time though Draco was angling for something in particular. He needed to feel, so he needed the pain, and Salazar in moments of clarity that terrified him. As he stared into the green eyes trying to work out how to navigate the conversation, he came up blank. It was like flying at full speed on a broom, steering to head straight for a Whomping Willow with no clue how you’d land. He wanted the pain, but not to die, and with Potter there were a lot of ways for this to go. 

Insulting Potter to the right level was a delicate art. Not so he wouldn’t be around him again, not so he wouldn’t talk to him again, not so he got himself actually kicked off the team and definitely not so Potter flipped and killed him, unlikely though it was, history said it shouldn’t be dismissed as an option. He had to get to get it just right, but at the same time, he wasn’t crazy enough not to hesitate a little before inflicting this kind of pain on himself, even if it was by proxy. 

If it was all he could get, he’d take it though. He’d take anything to not feel like this anymore and at least it was something he could do. 

‘You look like shit, Potter.’ See? Artful, a delicate bloody dance, and, okay, maybe he wasn’t quite up to top form. 

Potter just scoffed. 

‘You’re one to talk, you basically dropped dead on us at lunch.’ 

Well, yes, if they were going to work on comparative insults Draco was always going to lose, wasn’t he? There wasn’t a flicker of pain at the comment, it wasn’t really even an insult so definitely not a rejection. Though Potter didn’t ask the question, it did look like there was a hint of concern in the green eyes about what had happened at lunch. That wouldn’t help him get what he needed now, moving straight along then. 

‘You know, I’m shocked I’m still stuck with you here. I heard you were running about trying to pull the Saviour card to get me kicked off the team, is it not a free pass to everything you want anymore?’ He knew how much he hated the term, could see the wince at the word ‘Saviour’, but when Potter responded it still lacked the heat he needed. 

‘I haven’t been trying anything Malfoy. It might be difficult for us, but Blackwell chose you and with your … backgrounds … you probably are both the best men for the job. I haven’t said a word about it since it was assigned, and you seemed just as pissed as I was at the time.’ 

Okay, so that just meant to Weasel was lying and maybe Potter was a touch more decent at work than he thought. Or just willing to use the resources at his disposal regardless of alliances which was a very Slytherin, aka acceptable, response. Still not what he wanted now, damnit, maybe he was losing his touch. Or maybe Potter just didn’t care anymore? Draco growled faintly, hoping to Merlin that Potter didn’t hear it before he kept pushing. 

‘Come on Potter, work with me here. Tell me you have to go home to Weaselette.’ 

He scratched the back of his head, looking at the side of the room guiltily. 

‘Ahh … yeah, I do. But-’ he sighed, forcing himself to look straight at Malfoy. ‘I think we have some stuff we have to talk about here.’ 

‘We really don’t.’ 

‘Fucking fine Malfoy, we have some stuff I WANT to talk about. Why the hell do you have to make this so difficult?’ 

‘It’s part of my charm.’ 

Potter actually huffs a laugh at this, as much as it seems like he’s trying not to, but Draco hears it and feels a flutter in his chest, a tug at the corner of his lips which he tries to hold back to focus. No, not this, he needs- 

The blaring alarm of an urgent Auror call rings through the room. 

The shrill screech bouncing off the halls to inform anyone still in the building. As far as they knew, anyone might just mean them. Damn he had to be more careful about getting out of here on time. He’d just needed that rejection, like a bloody drug at this point and now it looked like he had to go another day without it. 

They ran up to the apparition room, an emergency call like this one had to be set off by an Auror in the field, which meant the room would direct their apparition. Malfoy had done it in training of course, but after all of the lessons on the Three D’s of apparition it felt bloody weird to throw yourself into it without the first one. Just go, no Destination in mind. 

Potter didn’t have that kind of hesitation, the kind born from a healthy survival instinct. No, he disappeared with a crack the second they stepped into the room. That in itself was enough for Draco, his Mate had just thrown himself into what they knew was a dangerous situation. It wasn’t even just the Veela part pushing him forward. 

He followed Potter’s lead and vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: So … People dying is just fine, hey? As long as you can make use of it?  
> Draco: Really Potter? I end it by throwing myself into mortal peril on your behalf and you want to harp on about that?  
> Harry: You’re not doing it for me, you’re doing it because it’s your job and we got called.  
> Draco: No, that’s why I’d protect people, being dead doesn’t save anyone.  
> Harry: Me dying saved the whole bloody world.  
> Draco: Perhaps, but you didn’t stay dead did you? Dead Harry would be useless to us now and I don’t think everyone should count on being lucky enough to come back.  
> Harry: Naw, just say it, you’d miss me.  
> Draco: I might be slightly inconvenienced.  
> Harry: From you that’s as good as a gushing declaration of love.


	10. Her Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yup. Obviously not quite what I intended for updating. Weird year, hey? I promise this isn’t dead just who knows how often for updates. Thanks so much for still reading and SORRY! <3 
> 
> Also, out of respect for everything going around about J. K. Rowling at the moment I’d like to offer this brief comment: 
> 
> I understand that a lot of her comments go against my own opinions and the fact that she would hurt people with her narrow-minded thoughts isn’t something I’d like to endorse. Having said that I believe that Harry Potter and the universe those books have created goes FAR beyond her as an author and, especially through fanfiction, have grown in more directions then she could ever imagine. I don’t want to have Harry Potter taken out of my life because the of who the author is, just as I wouldn’t blame a child for their parents’ sins, so I’ll continue doing whatever the hell I want with the characters and I hope you enjoy it!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco: Missed me?   
> Harry: Yes, I’m sure people were at an absolute loss without your sarcastic ass in their lives.   
> Draco: Well, I wasn’t thinking of my ass in particular, but it’s nice to know you have your priorities.   
> Harry: Yes honey, that’s exactly what I meant.   
> Draco: Missed you too idiot.

The soft voice echoed through his dreams. In total darkness it was almost overwhelming. 

‘Harry.’ 

No. It wasn’t soft, it was distant, it was shouted. It was passionate and desperate and god he just wanted to hear it again. 

‘Harry!’ 

Something in the lilt was closer to a purr, even as it grew more urgent. Demanding something … and he would have done it if he’d just understood what. Harry tried to focus on the voice, bringing him closer to heat and consciousness and the voice was clearer. Malfoy’s voice. 

‘Harry, move!’ 

Commanding; it hooked through something deep inside him and he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t force his eyes open. Couldn’t move his lips to respond. Couldn’t comprehend anything around him anything more than the voice. So, he moved. Rolling over just as he heard something slam into the ground beside him. 

‘Harry.’ Relief, exhausted approval. It was beautiful. 

\------------ 

Everything ached. 

There were shrill voices arguing over him and even through his closed eyelids he could see the flickering fluorescents of his second home – St Mungo’s. Clinging to the voice in his mind was harder and harder as the people in the room grew louder. Maybe because he was waking up or just because they wanted to be painful, either way he didn’t appreciate it. 

Without waking up he could identify at least three arguing Weasley’s; Ron, Molly and Gin. With Hermione chiming in every now and then, but it seemed kind of forced, like she knew it was the voice of reason she wanted to add but knew it would be ignored. 

‘He shouldn’t have still been working that late. He shouldn’t have had to answer the call.’ Did she always sound so petulant? Thanks Gin, it was obviously far beneath the Chosen one to work a little late sometimes... 

‘He was still in the office, anyone there would have responded. He did what he is paid to do.’ Ron growled, he seemed almost as annoyed at having this conversation as Harry was, and he was more than welcome to tag in this time, see if he got any further. 

‘I’m in town though, he should have taken the whole damn day off. He should have been with me.’ She huffed. Molly clicked her tongue at the swear word, but otherwise didn’t seem to have an issue with her daughter’s behaviour. She was the baby after all, it was okay for her to demand this kind of thing. 

‘His job matters Gin, he shouldn’t have to drop it for you. And maybe it you were in town more you’d get how important it is to him.’ Her brother argued. 

Again, it was a defence Harry had used before, but if this conversation was going the way it usually did then the next question was a dangerous one. 

‘More important than our relationship?’ Voice wavering at the end, not something a sane man dared answer. 

Unfortunately, Harry knew that he did have an answer for this, especially hearing the conversation from the outside this time. He absolutely cared more about his work, in fact, any excuse not to have to face her alone was good enough at the moment, and didn’t that say enough about their relationship? But, he wasn’t a part of it this time so he just let their voices wash over him, trying to keep any grip he could on the voice he’d heard before. The command that had sunk into his bones. 

Hermione’s sigh finally broke through the Weasley’s chatter. 

‘I’m going to go check on Malfoy.’ 

Harry forced his eyes open instantly, ‘he’s here too? Is he alright?’ 

Everyone looked straight to him, Hermione’s gaze a little sharper than he would have liked. 

‘Yes, he’s here. I don’t know how he is … I’ll let you know once I hear.’ She offered a little reluctantly when Harry started to try to get up. 

She left the room without another word, leaving him at the mercy of the Weasley’s. George was in the room too, he hadn’t said anything yet, it was nice to see that he’d come … even if he was swaying a little in his chair. 

‘I don’t see why Malfoy couldn’t have just gone in alone. It’s not like he has anyone at home waiting for him. It was our anniversary Harry.’ 

Great, the second he was awake the attack had turned back on him. Apparently, he’d been in here too often it was normal to forgo the usually “how are you?” or any other words of concern. 

Harry sighed, trying to overlook the part of that sentence he knew would start a fight. If he hadn’t been injured and they begged her to come back, she would have been at the training session. It wasn’t fair for her to suddenly act like it mattered, to either of them. 

‘He couldn’t have gone on his own. He’s a first year, it’s too dangerous to let them out in the field without a supervising Officer. Hell, even with me there I’ll have to fill in that it was direct request. He didn’t have to come with me Gin, but it might have saved my life that he did.‘ 

‘I don’t see why. He's a stinking Death Eater, throw him in first to see if there’s danger I say.’ She huffed, throwing a glare into the hallway as though it could reach him. 

‘Ginny-’ he began wearily, he should at least make a token attempt at defending Malfoy, though, in a room full of Weasley’s, he knew that wouldn’t go down well- but George somehow got in first. 

‘Leave off Gin.’ 

In the hallway Harry could make out a figure pause, Blaise glanced in and, if Harry wasn’t mistaking, there was a slight surprised cheerfulness hidden carefully behind his calm and blank eyes. But, he could have been imagining it. 

‘It doesn’t really matter what Malfoy’s done in the past. Tonight he was doing his damn job and helped Harry. Let’s leave it at that.’ He sighed as though that minor defence had taken the last of his drunken energy. ‘Glad you’re up Harry, we’ll leave you to it.’ Ron stepped subtly into his side to steady him as they walked out of the room and Molly walked behind, eyes on the single twin with the haunted look that Harry wasn’t quite sure whether it was brought from seeing a drunk child or that the single twin reminded her too much of the one she’d lost. 

Either way he couldn’t understand why George couldn’t stand it. 

Ginny broke him from his thoughts as her small hand grasped his. 

‘Come on Harry, let’s go home. There’s still some of the night left for us to enjoy.’ 

He honestly got no consideration for his wounds anymore. Though it said something that he was hoping they’d be a good excuse not to be stuck with his girlfriend. 

‘Sorry Gin, I think I’d prefer just to go home alone tonight.’ 

There, he’d said it. It kept playing through his head until he wasn’t actually sure it the words had left his mouth or if he’d just been thinking them so many times that he thought he might have. From the sour look on the girl’s face he was fairly certain he’d said it out loud. 

Surely, she wouldn’t cause too much of a scene in the hospital. But Weasley’s did kind of have a habit for making public scenes. 

‘What are you saying...?’ Her lip trembled; her voice quivered … usually it would pull at his heart but at the moment? 

Merlin, he was just tired. 

Tired and sore and worried about the blonde prat apparently still lying in a bed somewhere. He just wanted to see him, make sure he was okay, be in the same damn room as him at least. Not that he’d look into the reasons behind any of that, it’s just what he wanted. And at the moment, he was drugged just enough to go with it. 

‘I’m saying I can’t handle you right now, Gin. Can you just go to the Burrow for at least tonight?’ He shrugged her off, turning away to pull on his clothes. His shirt was ripped and bloodied, he couldn’t exactly remember what spell had been thrown at him but he remembered the pains of that. 

‘You’re kicking me out of my own house?’ 

‘It’s my house Ginny, I never invited you to move in and you’re never in the country anyway, how could it be your home?’ The thicker parts of blood on the shirt were still wet, sticking to his skin as he pulled it over his chest. How bad had Malfoy gotten it if this was how well he’d faired? 

‘It’s our house Harry, we’re building a life together there, you know that. Besides, you need someone to look after you.’ She sighed, quick change of tactics there. 

Harry cringed, why did that sound so cheesy and forced now. It was like everything she was saying was coming out differently because it wasn’t in the voice he wanted to hear. It just grated down his spine and he couldn’t bare it. 

‘Sorry, I’ll be fine for tonight. It’s really not that bad.’ She deserved more than this. ‘Just give me tonight, okay Gin?’ 

From there he didn’t wait for a response, walking straight out of the room in the direction that he’d seen Hermione and Blaise go. He just had to hope that she would decide to listen to him for once and she wouldn’t be waiting at home when he eventually got there. There was just one thing he had to do first. 

It didn’t take him long to spot the room, his hair stood out even with the terrible lighting and washed out sheets. 

Harry lent against the frame of the door to his room, waiting for Malfoy to look up at him. 

‘We have to stop meeting like this.’ He chuckled, eyes subtly flicking over him to try to judge how bad the blonde’s injuries were. 

‘Lame Potter.’ he sighed, but there was something light in his tone, underneath the pain. At least Harry liked to think there was. 

‘Potter? I could have sworn you were using Harry just a few minutes ago.’ 

‘Ahh … So, you heard that and decided it still seemed like a good time for a nap? How thoughtful of you. But, no, extenuating circumstances and all. Don’t get used to it.’ He raised his hands to gesture in his usual high-blooded, exaggerated way, but the clink of metal against the side of the bed held him back. 

‘Hand cuffs? What did you do, Malfoy?’ 

The blonde’s eyes instantly hardened, ‘what did I do? I bothered bringing your sorry ass to the hospital. Unfortunately, they had to then offer me treatment, you know, being a bleeding Auror. My mark also means that comes with chains. Next time I’ll be sure to skip the “giving a shit about the Golden Boy’s life”.’ 

Harry flinched ‘Malfoy, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re right, sorry.’ The icy glare meant he wasn’t forgiven of any of it, Harry sighed. 

‘Sorry I jumped to blaming you. Thank you for getting me here, and whatever else happened in the fight. I’ll go and talk to them about the cuffs.’ 

He was willing to use his name a bit if it made things more comfortable for Malfoy, again something he wasn’t willing to think about too much. Before he even got to try Blaise walked through, brushing roughly past him into the room, spinning keys around his finger. 

‘Hey love, ready for a jail break?’ He grinned at Malfoy who noticeably relaxed back into his bed. 

‘Blaise.’ The relief and warmth in his voice hurt. ‘Took your time, not in top form tonight?’ 

Harry frowned as he watched Blaise unlock the handcuffs, ‘please tell me you have the hospital’s permission to do this?’ 

He shot a glare over his shoulder. ‘It shouldn’t matter whether I do or not. They shouldn’t have done this in the first place.’ 

‘We still can’t go against policy. We don’t want to get him into more trouble.’ He obviously agreed with Blaise, he really did. But, watching him help Draco out of bed, he just had to pick holes in what he was doing. 

All it earnt him was another glare from both of them as Hermione walked into the room. 

‘So, this is where you winded up Harry? You should get home; Gin will be worried.’ She brushed past him, heading over to help Draco. ‘I’ve checked you out. These are the potions you need with instructions that you’ll need to follow. Actually … Blaise, I’m trusting these with you.’ She thrust them into his hands. 

Blaise chuckled lightly, mock saluting at the order. ‘Yes ma’am.’ 

‘Great, you two scheming together is exactly what I needed.’ Draco rolled his eyes as he spoke but there was a fondness to his voice that made Harry feel like he was further on the outside of this moment. 

Hermione and Blaise flanked his sides as they walked out, leaving Harry in the cold, room alone, with nothing but a giant empty house to go home to. Draco was okay. That should be all he needed to focus on. But, somehow, the night ending like this didn’t feel like enough, like the outcome he was meant to get. 

That voice he’d heard in the fight … he couldn’t even imagine what it sounded like anymore, he knew it was Draco’s, but not Draco’s exactly. He couldn’t hear it, but he could feel it in the back of his mind, like it was just out of reach, and he wanted that again. 

Needed to hear that again. 

But, for tonight, he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: See, ends with me hurt? Happy now?   
> Draco: Oh, pleeeease tell me you’re not comparing the pain of my Veela trying to die with your angsty little lonely moment?   
> Harry: No, I mean … maybe that’s what I was doing, but it’s at least a step in the right direction?   
> Draco: I don’t want you to suffer idiot, well … maybe a little, but mostly I just want you to stop hurting me.   
> Harry: I don’t even know I am hurting you. If you just told me …   
> Draco: Then you’d run. Relax Harry, I’m sure there’s plenty more suffering in store for both of us. It seems like that kind of book.   
> Harry: As long as we get some good moments as well.


	11. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so let’s just all agree that I’m shit at this updating thing and hope I get better.  
> SORRY!  
> I’m going to stop promising you things but I do have HEAPS of the rest of it semi plotted and some chunks written, so it won’t die. Just a giant thank you to everyone who’s still bothering to read it!!! <3  
> I have the next chapter almost ready, but I felt like they needed a New Year’s celebration too. Thank god 2020 is OVER!!!  
> (Only a week late)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco: Happy New Year! May 2021 be the year you finally grow a braincell.  
> Harry: Naw, thanks. Then if you grew a heart we’d match!  
> Draco: You’re saying I don’t have a heart?!  
> Harry: Sure, that’s all I’m saying …  
> Draco: … I have more than a braincell!  
> Harry: That took you a while … You’ve already started the party, hey?

No matter how bad it ever got, New Year’s Eve was without a doubt Blaise’s favourite holiday.

He tried to be a positive person, he really did, but realistically he just wasn’t. He was just the right kind of Slytherin to force a cocky smirk through his cynicism and that was enough for him to get by.

New Year’s Eve though, it held the precious stolen hours where he could honestly believe things would get better. It wasn’t often he’d dwell on his childhood and he certainly wasn’t going to start that now, but it hadn’t always been happy. Or stable. Or safe. But Merlin did his mother love him, and she made sure - regardless of whatever else was going on in their lives, in the world, in ANYTHING – that New Year’s Eve was a time for them to dream.

And if, one year, theoretically, he’d broken down and wished that in the new year his new stepdad wouldn’t be around anymore … If he’d finally had the guts to tell his mum about the bruises that he’d been hiding weekly in that stolen moment between the two of them. Then that was drowned out by the fireworks which made it okay to be weak.

And IF, that next year didn’t happen to have his stepdad in it at all until two months later the authorities confirmed that he’d vanished from the face of the earth. Well, that was a New Year miracle that certainly had nothing to do with his darling mother.

New Year’s Eve was just a special time for that kind of magic. The kind that you’d do anything for.

\------------

‘We’re going.’ Blaise threw a silk shirt at him.

It wasn’t a question. It never was. This was the one non-negotiable holiday and after everything Blaise did for him he really should have learnt to face it with a smile by now.

Draco was still just barely out of the hospital but no, he’d be dressing up in his best bloody clothes and would be going to this party. He stared at the man in his doorway, arms crossed, waiting for him acknowledgment of defeat. Merlin, did Blaise know how to dress himself, clothes always just hung off him with a tailored casual grace that he’d never seen anyone else pull off, but especially on New Year’s Eve he’d make an effort that put everyone else to shame. Not that he really had an issue there, Veela genes and all, but he still didn’t think he held a candle to Blaise style wise.

He still made the process as drawn out as he could, groaning as he dragged himself out of bed, stripping unashamed in front of him and waiting to get his outfit chosen for him. Back at Hogwarts this had occasionally been a dangerous game, but not tonight. Tonight, Blaise took dressing each of them very seriously. New outfits far above the cost of Draco’s entire wardrobe at the moment, had been purchased for all of them without argument.

He paused to admire himself briefly in the mirror, sweeping his hair to fall perfectly framing his features. Even bothering with the slightest bit of makeup to highlight his eyes. Nothing compared to what the other two were putting on but he thought it would make Blaise happy to see him trying.

By the time the three Slytherins deemed themselves suitable to be presented and that it was about time to turn up fashionably late the party was already about at it’s peak. At a glance there were plenty of people already drunk, plenty of people already paired off for the night and a few fights going on around the place. 

To their left, half transitioning into the kitchen were two Weasels spitting at one another:

‘It’s a party for Godric’s sake. I’m meant to drink.’

‘Not that much- I’m not taking care of you tonight.’

‘I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Don’t worry ‘ickle wonnikins, I can take care of myself.’

‘You know what. Fucking fine. Suit yourself. I’m not having my year ruined by you.’

Coming down the stairs was a bashful Lion and an unknown:

‘You just don’t want me. That’s what it is isn’t it?!’

‘No, I just feel like we’re rushing this. You’re gorgeous. You know I think you’re amazing.’

‘Neville, I thought you were more man than that. I’m not wasting tonight on you!’

‘Wait … Please?’

Ohh … that one sounded like a legitimate breakup too.

On the bar leading out to the pool:

‘It’s New Year’s Eve! The perfect time for a new start and you act like you don’t care! Like you don’t want this.’

Ginny pressed herself again Harry, this fight seemed to have more viewers than the others and poor Potter looked uncomfortable at being centre stage.

‘Not now Gin. Please, I didn’t even want to come to this-’

‘You never want to come to anything Harry.’

‘How would you know, it’s not like you’re ever in the country to ask.’

‘I’m here now! We’re here now!’

‘Gin, that’s not the point…’

Potter’s voice kept getting quieter, trying to back away from being the spectacle that they were, but the Weaselette was more than compensating. Even over the blaring music they’d walked into he could make out every word. Poor Potter was in well over his head as he turned away from the crowd, leading Ginny outside to continue the fight.

Draco tried not to take quite as much joy in that as he did. It was great to see that the perfect couple that was ruining his every waking hour wasn’t quite as happy as he’d spent his time imagining. That though sent a shiver down his spine with the knowledge that Potter wasn’t happy. His mate was hurting and he couldn’t bring himself to be happy about it.

Damn it, what he couldn’t give to be insensitive and selfish again. Or some balance in the middle that wasn’t quite as pathetic as either of the above.

‘Drink?’ Blaise offered, his arm brushing against Draco’s naturally to ground him.

‘Salazar, yes.’

Pansy nodded, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she followed the to the bar, the three of them bunched fairly closely together despite their confident strides. In situations like this Draco was firmly of the belief that lions could smell fear and could pick off the weak. Hell that’s what snakes would do so that’s what he’d trained himself around anyway.

Blaise made eye contact with the few people who bothered staring and flashed each of them an easy smile. Greeting anyone he’d known from his years of training. He owned the room and it helped keep everyone happy enough with their entrance. Draco just tried to keep calm, they were helped by the fact that most people were already well into their drinks, but that would make the allure so much worse if it began to seep out. If he could keep his head down though, maybe Blaise would have a good night and he’d get to start his new year at least in the same vicinity as his mate.

Draco wouldn’t have minded the party so much if he didn’t feel like everyone here hated him, or if his two loyal friends that had dragged him here at least stayed with him. But they both fell away fairly quickly to find their own entertainment for the night, and he really didn’t want to hold that against them just because he knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he settled down in a fairly comfortable seat near the drinks and waved them off as they glanced back to check on him.

***

Pansy had chosen her mark and he seemed like he was basically already drooling over her. She positioned herself just right that he was getting glimpses down her top that he’d lean forward to see more of as she moved without her seeming like she was doing anything for it at all. The conversation didn’t have much depth, but he was flattering and boasting, trying to keep her attention as though he had chosen her and now had to work for it. Men like this were so easy, but he certainly seemed like he’d be fun for the night, and what more could she ask for really?

She knew the steps to go through. Laughed at the right moments, batted her lashes and gasped at the right prompts. It was almost … boring. But he was fit, she could feel a few girls glaring at her from around the room and not because she was Pansy Parkinson, not because she was Slytherin. Because she was gorgeous and this guy was hers. That was the main use for men anyway, someone who looked good on her arm. Draco and Blaise were fantastic at that after all.

It was a bit boring though, knowing exactly what was going to come next. Spending an evening with someone so predictable because apparently all hot boys worked from the same damn playbook. She wasn’t paying as much attention as she should have been as another girl approached, fake tripping and some foul, sticky mix of a drink was thrown against her back. The cold ice cubes slipping down the back of her dress as the red bled through the white silk. Her new dress. Blaise’s pick for the year …

She grit her teeth, refusing to give the reaction they all expected and shot the girl a smile over her shoulder. ‘Careful there.’ Then back to the man before she had a chance to respond. ‘One second, sorry.’ And stepped away from the conversation, making her way quickly into the kitchen.

She grabbed a handful of napkins, pulling her hair around her shoulder and trying to dry it out as quickly as possible. She tried not to let any more of it get on the dress, but it had matted through her hair and was somehow still dripping. The options seemed to be to either dump her head in the sink, come out looking like a drowned rat with dripping makeup or strip off to try to protect the dress. Neither would really be a good impression for the night. And the guy she’d been talking to-

She looked out of the kitchen to see him with his lips pressed against those of the girl who’d spilt her drink. Well yeah, that made sense. She really needed the help getting over that.

‘Fuckers.’ She grumbled. Why had she wasted her time anyway. Now she had no guy, looked a mess and had ruined Blaise’s new year present for her. She pinched the bridge of her nose, she wouldn’t cry, she didn’t care. It was some idiot who couldn’t tell her worth and just a drink on a dress. There were far worse things in the world. But still-

‘You okay?’ the question was painfully genuinely concerned. ‘He’s an asshole anyway. And you’re way out of his league.’

‘I- yeah … thanks.’ She glanced once back at her lost target, looks like this might be an upgrade anyway. She lent over the island bench between them, reaching for the roll of paper towels, giving him an excellent view down her dress.

His eyes dropped to where they were meant to, then there was a blush, awkward stutter and he glanced away. She honestly found it kind of … cute … as long as he could match her when it counted. She wasn’t after a complete pushover here. Then again, with his past … It was better not to underestimate him.

Then he flashed her a grin, still kind of unsure, crooked but somehow with an overwhelming confidence and comfort behind it that she was a little thrown. Definitely unexpected.

***

Blaise had a few options for the night. He was in a group of people and taking not of who leaned in when he laughed, who blushed at his jokes, who clung to his stories. At least five that he was definitely interested in too, he just had to choose. Well … not necessarily choose just one. It was New Year’s Eve after all.

He was still after something to wash the memory of the ginger out of his mind anyway. Disappointing start, great middle and cringeworthy end wasn’t really what he generally aimed for in his one-night stands. He much preferred the consistency of ‘fuck that was good’ and goodbye. A few of the people here seemed like that’s exactly what they were offering.

There was a guy with pale hair, broad shoulders and a nice smile that he’d discounted earlier on, his arm wrapped tightly around his girlfriend at his side. They’d both been moving closer to him though, staring at him, that certainly looked like it could be fun.

He excused himself for a moment, grabbing drinks for the three of them. There was no harm in testing the waters at least. When he turned back to the group the girl was looking over her shoulder, grinning at him and winked. Bold, despite the deep blush that spread up her cheeks. Definitely would be fun.

‘She’s pretty …’ came a drunk drawl from beside him.

He glanced across, somehow he hadn’t even noticed that he’d walked straight up to his most recent … endeavour.

‘Good evening, George.’

‘Bit cheap flirting while she has an arm on her boyfriend, but if you don’t mind the cheating type then I guess that’s fine. Though … I didn’t think girls were your type.’

His head tipped back as he swallowed the dregs of his drink, Blaise watched him carefully as his Adam’s apple bobbed and he held his hand straight out for his next drink. Was that a hint of jealousy? Or was he just shitty drunk in general? He couldn’t tell how much he’d had to drink, but it was obvious it was too much. How he still managed to have a bloody magnetic draw around him was a mystery.

Blaise dragged his eyes away looking back to the couple. ‘I was actually angling for both. I never knowingly go for cheaters … too complicated.’

He tipped his drink to the girl that was still watching him. Her grin grew and she turned, whispering something to the man beside her who looked back, grinning at Blaise. Perfect, they would be fun. What a great way to start the new year.

He’d never say it, but it had been a little … shall we say, stressful? … looking after Draco. He wouldn’t complain and he’d go nuts if Draco ever suggested he couldn’t, it was just … He needed this, the freedom of people taking care of him. He didn’t trust relationships after what he’d grown up with, they corrupt, but one-night stands can be more dedicated for that one moment than anything else he’d experienced. That’s all he wanted for himself, his life could be about Draco as long as he had nights like this.

‘I just … Okay …’ George stared into his drink, his voice dropping lower. ‘I mean … I wanted to say sorry. You were really great about-’ he waved his hand about vaguely, possibly referring to the whole night. ‘-and I was, well, a bit of a shit- completely a shit. So-’ He looked up and flashed Blaise a grin, the same toothy smile that he remembered from back in school. ‘-sorry. Really.’

***

By the time he spotted the golden trio at the side of the room he’d have enough to drink that it sounded like a great idea to hurry over to them, swerving at the last moment to embrace the bushy haired of the three of them.

‘Hermione! I’m so glad to see you here!’

In his defence, his time in Azkaban had really dulled his alcohol tolerance. In his grip Hermione laughed gently, wrapping one arm around him for a kind pat on the back.

‘You were told not to drink on your medication, weren’t you?’

‘Yeah, that’s a good excuse too!’ He jumped on it instantly, though, from Potter’s snort of laughter he’s not sure if that was quite as smooth as he felt like it was.

He pulled back slowly, still leaning on the pregnant woman a fair bit, taking in Potter’s amusement and Weasley’s glare. What was his problem? Whatever. Didn’t matter. It was his problem, not Draco’s. He was about to reach out for Potter when something in his mind reminded him that he wasn’t exactly meant to. Hermione didn’t seem to be opposed to it though, and she smelt like him, felt like his mate’s family. It was nice, and warm, and he wanted more of it.

‘Dance with me? I was abandoned by my usual partners.’

Hermione laughed again with a shake of her head, hand touching at her stomach.

‘Sorry. Not quite as light on my feet as I used to be …’

Draco took a moment to look over her, and then the other two in the line-up.

‘Nope, sorry. I remember the yule ball; I still say you’re my best option.’

With that conclusion he took her hand, gently tugging her out to where people were dancing, judging that she wasn’t really putting up a defence to coming. It was actually fun. Granger could absolutely still dance, even so far into growing a thing inside her.

And being drunk was fun, freeing, for now – he knew how fast it could turn and had sworn to Pansy and Blaise only to do it at parties he had permission to. He was happier for now, but it was an escape, and definitely not a good defence for a rejected Veela.

Dancing, laughing, getting bushy hair in his face and he spun a friend under his arm – all excellent treatments for rejection. If that friend happened to provide an extra link to his mate – who may or may not still be staring at him from the side of the dance floor – and keeps the Veela quite, well … added bonus.

It didn’t feel like long before there was a switch to a slower song. Draco turned front on to Hermione and tugged her in, arm bracketing her waist and supporting her arm. Perfect pure-blood posture for the dance. He stepped gracefully to the beat, leading her through complicated steps with ease, but only got maybe a third of the song before it was too much for the jealous husband and he was swapped off the dancefloor.

He was still grinning when he collapsed into the seat Weasley had vacated, the seat beside Potter as luck would have it.

‘You looked like you were having fun.’ Potter spoke fairly quietly but Draco could hear him crystal clear over the music and feel the curious smile in his voice. ‘I haven’t seen you that happy for a while.’

Since he’d only been back in his life for a short time, it felt like he meant longer than that, back at school perhaps? Fourth year? Before … well before.

‘I haven’t been that happy for a while …’ Draco mused back. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

***

Pansy’s perfectly manicured fingernails dug into the deeply tanned, thick shoulders beneath her as she lent back, adjusting the angle and grinding down harder encouraged by the moan beneath her.

She heard the fireworks going off and glanced out the window, sweeping her fringe back from her eyes to admire the lights colouring the sky. The lights were beautiful in the sky and she didn’t hate them as the backing music of the thrusts between her thighs. She leaned down, still moving her hips in time with the body beneath her.

‘Happy New Year’ she mumbled against the chapped lips; the kiss that followed felt like so much more than the simple kiss she’d expected to start the year with.

‘I can’t _believe_ a lion is my first kiss of the year…’ She groaned, in what was meant to be exasperation but came out a little more satisfied than she intended. It was hardly her fault though. The boy had a good body and clearly knew how to use it. His large, warm hand braced against her hips, helping her shift, but always supporting never pulling. It was the perfect combination of supportive and submissive that she never knew was what she wanted under her.

***

Blaise heard the music stop and the countdown start and he sighed, his hand tracing slow circles against the ginger’s back as he kept heaving into the bushes. There were plenty of better options inside. So many great ways to start the year. This was not what he had in mind.

‘3 … 2 … 1 …’ He murmured under his breath, listening to the cheers inside the house just as the first explosion went off in the sky.

George looked up at the bang. ‘Hey- they’rrr furr midnigh’.’

‘It is midnight.’ He sighed.

How the hell he ended up being the sober babysitter to the guy he’d made the horrible choice to sleep with once was beyond him. This was usually his favourite night of the year. He always imagined he could feel the fizzle of magic in the air, ready to start something new. That spectacular build up to diving into the unknown that the whole world counted down to. To him that had always seemed like a special kind of magic that should be respected and celebrated as was it’s want. Which in his mind involved lots to drink and an indulgent, strongly encouraged, kiss with a stranger at midnight.

He supposed that George had fulfilled the first part of the quota … The taller man stared at the sky for a moment, processing Blaise’s comment before leaning in to try to fulfil the second. Blaise swerved away just in time.

‘No way is my first action of the new year going to be getting the taste of vomit in my mouth.’ He groaned, no need to bother with tact when dealing with someone this drunk and he didn’t have it in him to humour him at the moment.

For a moment it looked like George was upset, his eyes slid from Blaise’s face to the lights in the sky.

‘Fred an’ I used to do that …’ but that look passed quickly to uneasy and head down in the bushes again.

Blaise kept rubbing his back gently, ripping the lid off a water bottle with his teeth and handing it to George when it sounded like he was taking another break.

‘Happy New Year.’ He could already tell this would be a _great_ one.

He’d always been a strong believer in starting the year out as you want it to continue. This was the first year in his living memory that he hoped that was wrong.

***

The music suddenly cut out as they started to get ready to do the countdown into the New Year, cutting off the conversation he’d been having with Potter.

‘I should find her…’ The tone in Potter’s voice betrayed his reluctance to follow that thought through with actual action.

‘Why?’

‘She’s my girlfriend.’ He huffed, again, Draco wasn’t sure if he knew how much his tone gave away about that particular statement.

‘But why?’ He lent in closer, carefully trying to gauge his reaction.

Potter’s forehead scrunched together as his green eyes surveyed Draco carefully. Not trying to work out the answer, Draco realised, trying to work out what question he’d asked. Whether he was asking why he needed to find her or the much deeper question of ‘why the hell is she your girlfriend when you should be with me?!’. Draco gave nothing away. He wouldn’t mind getting the answer to either of them.

‘Kiss.’ Potter blurts out eventually. ‘It’s almost midnight. I need a kiss.’ He stuttered through the explanation as Draco leaned forward, closer to him.

‘Just “A Kiss” Potter. Not “Her Kiss”?’ He asked quietly as the countdown began.

‘I-‘ Potter didn’t move back, didn’t even look around to see if anyone was looking.

He kept staring into his eyes, moving slowly closer, waiting for the moment when Potter would draw back. Knowing that this was basically a guarantee that he was going to start the year with the pain of rejection, but for once he wanted to believe in Blaise’s faith for the new year. And his mate wasn’t moving away. He didn’t think he was using allure … if he was it wasn’t on purpose, and there was no way he could control it now.

His gaze shifted briefly down to Draco’s lips and as the countdown reached it’s end Draco was almost positive it was Potter, not him, who closed the gap between them.

Their lips pressed together, hesitantly at first before gaining confidence. It felt so right. Aside from the Veela trill that shot through him in joy, Potter was just a good kisser, their lips moved together easily, parting, shifting but not going too far yet. It was just the perfect start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Want to share your New Year’s resolution with me?  
> Draco: I don’t make them.  
> Harry: I saw you writing one down … How could you not oh glitter glue master of vision boards.  
> Draco: You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone about that!  
> Harry*laughing*: So … Resolution?  
> Draco: No chance in hell! 
> 
> In case you were wondering, this was written on his paper -  
> Make Harry mine.


End file.
